Timeline
by saisoto
Summary: Preseries. My version of how Tony and Gibbs met each other during a case.
1. Chapter 1

Don't own NCIS but there're some original characters I hope you like.

Places and names are all invented

Enjoy the story!

* * *

**TIMELINE**

**Chapter 01**

His first crime scene. Despite the bad karma of the situation, caused by the death of a person, Collin Tank couldn't help but be fascinated and feel some misplaced joy for what was happening around him. He tried to look serene, almost contrite, although this gesture of respect was useless when his neck was stretched over the shoulder of his police partner, in a vain attempt to see something more than the yellow tape which separated them from the body. They were supposed to take care of people who come close to the scene out of curiosity, but at this late hour and in the middle of a park, the few people who could be there were of dubious intentions and had disappeared when the first beam of light swept the area.

He had been on patrol for two weeks by now and so far the most interesting thing that had happened to him was the pursuit of a pickpocket whom he handcuffed and proudly escorted to the station. When he had been assigned the night shift, the young agent thought he was going to get a taste of blunt action, but apart from seeing the bitter side of the city he only had had to deal with gang members and prostitutes. His partner, Nathan Kernighan, a veteran patrolman with blond hair and a prominent belly hanging over the buckle of his belt, had assured him that he wasn't going to get bored, although things wouldn't be as he had imagined. True enough.

Tonight the only call they've got has been for some disturbances and by the time they had arrived all the counterparts had fled the scene. To make the shift shorter they'd stopped at almost every snack bar they knew, Collin drinking innumerable amounts of cokes and Nathan teas. It had been the younger agent who had grabbed the micro when it made its call for a 1-87 on Union park. Despite being too far away and ignoring the murderous look on his partner's face, Collin hadn't hesitated a bit when he answered that they were nearby and coming. They had found all the stuff in position upon arrival at the scene and the officer at charge had instructed them to monitor the area, most to the chagrin of the rookie who had contented himself with observing the making off of the agents, thinking that one day he would be on the other side of the tape.

They had been there for an hour and Collin began to feel the effect of both, drinks and cold, taking the toll on him. He needed a toilet right now. He began to fidget from one foot to another, trying hardly not to think of anything that have to do with fluids or hissing sounds.

"What's wrong?" Nathan asked watching the strange dance his partner was performing.

"I need to take a leak," Collin whispered somehow ashamed about the situation.

"Well then. Go," Nathan replied nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders and turning his gaze over the agents working on the square of grass.

"Where?" Collin asked between greeted teeth.

"You're kidding, right? Come on! This is full of trees," the veteran agent said with amusement in his voice. He raised one hand and pointed to a remote area. "Go find one you are comfortable with and raise your leg".

Collin muttered something about the salubrity of that statement, but nonetheless, he struck on to a side gravel path with short, quick steps.

He walked several yards from the main road until he couldn't take it anymore and stepped into the bushes looking for a little more privacy. Collin had no problem with peeing in a park, if necessary, but he didn't considerer it appropriate when there was a corpse nearby. He threw a quick glance around to be sure he was safe from unwanted eyes and let out a moan of satisfaction as his bladder released its load.

When he was buckling his belt and straightening his coat, a movement caught his attention. He turned with a jerk as he heard the sound of branches letting something pass through them.

"What the ...?"

Collin leaned closer, squinting his eyes as if that would allow him to see better into the bushes. His imagination began to project scenes from horror movies in his mind. Those moments when you wonder why the main character opens the door if it's damn obvious that the bad guy is at the other side. He extended an arm to remove the branches, but remained at a safe distance in case something, or someone, decided to jump at him and, just as a precaution, he kept his other hand firmly pressed on the butt of his gun. "It will be a bird," he reasoned in his head. "A harmless bird, so there is nothing to be scared of." He couldn't suppress the gasp that left his throat when a coal-black bird fluttered terrified mere inches from his face. Collin lifted one hand to his chest, making sure that his heart hadn't left the building and then smiled, despite himself.

"A real hero" he chastised just to hear his own voice over the silence.

He was about to turn away when he saw something of the corner of his eye. Pushing aside the branches he found a small clearing at the other side and a piece of plastic protruding from the ground. He looked over his shoulder, to where the other agents were. It could be nothing and in any other situation he would have thought it was just a trash bag, but there was something that prevented him from not giving importance to the fact that the earth seems to be removed and that the size of the area was enough to fit the height of a person lying down.

"I'm paranoid" He said to himself; however he stepped into the clearing.

There was no way somebody has come from the same way as him, but on the other end he could see marks of someone who had broken through the brush. Bordering the small area he get close to the space where the grass seemed to be crushed and several branches were cut short. He crouched beside the rough path, searching with his eyes anything of relevance. He didn't know if he was trying to find an excuse to get out of there or to pull that piece of plastic out. He hung his head between his shoulders and sighed. It doesn't make sense to prolong the doubt. He couldn't leave the place not knowing what was beneath that layer of soil.

He adjusted his gloves and started digging. He pulled at the plastic several times, but whatever was there, it was way too heavy. Despite the cold, Collin felt drops of sweat running down his face. He didn't know how long he had been digging when he finally managed to expose part of the bag. He felt the content with his hand and almost fell back when he could discern the shape of a toe straining the plastic as if it was asking for him to take it out. Collin felt the air get trapped in his lungs and he needed a few seconds to remember how to breathe. He shakily straightened himself up and he walked away from the tip as far as narrow clearing allow. At this time his radio crackled and Collin gave out yell that would have been the delight of any horror film's director. He took two steadying breaths before taking the device with trembling hands.

"Huh ... Ta- Tank here," he stammered.

"Hey kiddo, are you done drowning the plants? 'Cause I'm freezing my ass" The voice of his partner dissipated some of the sinister aura that had taken over the place. "How about we get ourselves out of here and grab something to eat."

Collin took the radio to his lips, but when he tried to say something his throat didn't work and it let him gaping like a fish out of water. At the other side Nathan waited for a bit before trying again.

"Hellooooooo, Is anybody there?"

"A body," Collin managed to blurt out.

"A what?"

"A corpse, I found a co-corpse. Good Lord," Collin began to pace the small clearing, staring at the plastic that was unearthed. "Here is a person, in a garbage bag and it's dead, for sure it's dead".

"Calm down," Nathan replied, sensing like the hysteria was giving a high-pitched tone to his partner's words. "Where are you?"

"I don't know, I went into the bushes. I must be near the fountain".

"Don't touch anything. Wait for me on the path."

"Got it," Collin whispered to someone who wasn't listening anymore. He dropped his arm and gave a last look at the covered foot before entering the bushes.

He was still struggling with the branches that had been caught in his jacket when a hand grabbed his arm. Collin turned with a jerk, searching for his gun.

"Easy Tiger" Nathan exclaimed, raising his hands in the world known gesture of surrender. "It's me, your dear and beloved partner."

"Jesus" the young man said in a whisper. "You almost scare me to death".

"Brave police you are. Ok, where's the corpse?"

Collin pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

"Over there".

"All right, there we go".

The blond policeman made the initial movement to get into the woods, but seeing that his partner remained at the same spot, he stopped the motion, leaving one foot into the bushes.

"Today better than tomorrow kid," he said with both arms stretched towards the plants.

"I've just been there!" Collin replied exasperated. The last thing he wanted was to return to the clearing, let alone see the plastic bag with its distinctive content. "Why not call the sergeant and leave him to take care of it?"

"Look kiddo, someone has to stay with the body. Unless you want to be that person, you're going to tell me, exactly, where it is". Nathan needed to see the corpse to believe there was one and pop the fireworks. It wasn't that he didn't trust his partner, but he was still a rookie and for that very easy to impress.

Collin couldn't deny the logic of his partner's words and right now he felt like a coward. It was a primal instinct, a protective one; you saw a death body, you run. But he was a policeman; this kind of things went with the job, although he didn't expect to find a body this early on his career. He also had to consider the fact that this would be a story to tell in the locker room and he didn't want to look like a scaredy cat in front of his partner.

"Let's do it", he finally said while walking pass the other agent.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Mother Nature had provided Marcus Brodor a body capable of resisting easily the cold temperatures this winter was bringing. He was large in every direction and was used to look at people from above or walk sideways in narrow places. According to a person who must spend most of his energy to set into motion his own weight, Marcus was a peaceful and placatory man. However, he kept a backup of sheer determination that he knew how to exploit on his own advantage, and he didn't hesitate to do so if necessary.

In his early years as a police officer in uniform, he kept the resemblance of an American football player and moved with a speed that disproved his size. He took advantage of his imposing presence to avoid using physical restrain, as he had learned at an early age that even though he could feel the same pain, people didn't understand the self defense assertion when the opponent was one-third of the other's size. Some years behind a desk and a bit of letting himself wasted had succeeded in reversing his earlier shape and, when his shoulders had been the broadest part of his anatomy in the past, now the bulk had gravitated to his stomach, where a wide fat roll had taken its permanent residence and was the topic of most of the fights with his wife.

The idea that Marcus had coveted in the beginning was to become Police Chief, maybe even Deputy Commissioner. At least that was what he had told his wife at that time, but deep down he knew that the roof of his career wouldn't be far away from a patrol car. When he got his last and final accreditation as a Lieutenant, he had seen with painful clarity that he was not meant to be perpetually chained to a table, driving agents around the city of Baltimore. Maybe it was because he didn't want to be disconnected from the streets or maybe it was for the creepy feeling he got with anything related to politics. He wasn't sure of the reason, but didn't regret the 26 years he had been covering the streets, 12 of them as a homicide detective and 9 as a lieutenant.

The night of the events, he was up when the phone had rang, had given a farewell kiss to his wife - who had muttered something about a coat for the cold - and had left to Union Park where another victim was waiting.

The coffee he held in his hands was unable to warm even his fingertips and he wished for the murderer to have done his work indoors, but... What could you expect from someone who had devoted his/her time to end the life of a young man, and therefore was no more conscious than an impulsive dictator could be? He took a sip from the paper cup, frowning when the - now - cold liquid brushed his lips. He was convinced that if he left the cup in the sidewalk, he would return to find an iced-coffee. The city had turned into a damn freezer! It was one of the coldest winters he could recall and, given his age, he remembered a great deal of them. The only good thing about it was that most people chose to stay at their homes, shacks or slums and, therefore, they didn't have much activity ongoing on the streets, especially at night.

He kicked vigorously the ground, doubting if his feet were still at the end of his legs, or had already migrated to warmer places, and then looked toward the still form that lay on the tidy square of grass. Maybe it was for the blood loss or the cold, but the body had a bluish tinge that he couldn't help but compare with an ice statue. His eyes were partially open and had a white film covering them, making hard to tell what color they were when life had flowed them. Marcus felt tempted to close the boy's eyelids to let him rest at last, but it was against protocol, so he remained in the same spot looking down to a face that had no longer the features of a boy but wasn't an adult either. He doubted that the kid had begun to shave too long ago.

Scientists were still collecting samples and proofs, working like bees and emitting a buzzing sound that Marcus couldn't comprehend quite well. He sighed with relief when the small shape of his partner got out of one of the cars parked at the other side of the yellow tape. Not being a person he usually would want to have around, at least he could understand her.

Sheila Jamet was the antithesis of Marcus. She was petite and thin, and sort of electric shocks seemed to be running through her body at all times. She couldn't stay put more than two minutes and, even in that short period of time, she used to play with her rings or necklace, twisting her fingers and swinging on her feet. With what Marcus described as a vibrant personality, Sheila didn't seem to discourage from anything or anybody. That, combined with the twisting habit, had the ability to get on the nerves of a lot of people, sometimes his own. She had been transferred a year ago form the eastern district and had been partnered with Marcus for the last six months. They didn't hang out together after work, but had reached a sort of balance that allowed them to work just fine.

Sheila raised a hand, shook it with energy and briskly walked down the hill. Marcus wondered how she was capable of staying up right on those heels, more like platforms than styluses; but he had seen her running with them and intercepted more than one suspect with a tackle that would have embarrassed some rugby players. He also had to admit that she knew how to profit from them, especially when using the square base to dig in feet belonging to people reluctant to speak. Maybe his wife was right and it was a matter of getting used to them. Unconsciously, he shrugged his shoulders: as long as she got the work done, he wouldn't complain. Not even about his clothing. Regardless of the short sheepskin leather jacket she was wearing on top of black tight jeans, that seemed helpless against the low temperatures, she hadn't taken one day on sick leave yet. Marcus thought it was due to all that energy she kept bottled inside; it ought to work like a heater. She even might be one of those who release heat at night. Shaking his head to get rid from the images that had assaulted his mind uninvited, he tried to focus on the body sprawled a few feet away.

The gravel crunched under her soles when she stopped at his side. He saw her tossing the curly black hair and then putting it back again covering her ears, while she made a pout with his lips. Marcus knew that at the end of the night it would end up in a ponytail or a bun made with a pencil if there wasn't any hair band at hand. She gave him a friendly nudge in the side and then rubbed her hands together vigorously, to grant some of the heat the night kept stealing from her.

"Man, isn't it freezing here? Look, I think the tip of my nose has frozen. And my ears? They'll fall apart if I dare to touch them. That's the body? It's just a kid. How old? 18 years? Not likely. Is it really two o'clock in the morning? I'm beaten. Is that coffee? Can I have some?"

Marcus was used to Sheila's verbosity, so he just nodded or shook his head at the right times. When his partner was present, the amount of words Marcus said tended to decrease to an alarming level, but Sheila quickly adjusted herself and the questions began to fade away, allowing the answers to be inserted adequately.

"Do we have a name?"

"Brian Adler, 19. Stab wound, he bled right there."

Sheila grimaced and approached the body, thrusting her hands into her pockets.

"Have the scientists guys already done their thing? Is there any suspects? Anyone has been arrested?"

"Almost, no and no" Marcus answered, giving up about the coffee and searching for a bin trash. "We didn't even know who found it".

"An anonymous call?"

Marcus nodded and was about to say something else, when an 'uni' (police officer) came running, slipped slightly on the icy pavement and stood, on wobbling legs, in front of the two detectives.

"Sir, we have another body".

Marcus wasn't an imaginative man and he was often grateful of this inability to see more than his eye did. However, that crime scene showed him more than a girl wrapped in thick black plastic. The eyes wide open spoke of a deep rooted fear, the fingers were clenched, giving proof of an unfair fight, and the mouth O-shaped as if she was still releasing her last breath. The veteran detective recognized all these. He had seen them in photos and feared the implications this discovery was going to bring. He looked over his shoulder, wishing he could bury the corpse and pretend they had never found it. But there was no such possibility, and the conversion from a wild speculation into an undeniable reality did nothing but to put a heavy burden on his weary soul. One hand rubbed eyes that had seen too much in too little time, but the gesture didn't bring any comfort or wipe out the scene that lay at his feet.

"Call the science guys" Marcus said without worrying about who filled the emissary role.

He felt a hand grabbing his arm and he used the physical contact as an Ariadne's thread to remember the way back to reality. He turned his gaze to the slightly concerned brown eyes, for what or whom he wasn't sure, and didn't want to know.

"She's one of them, right? One of those girls DiNozzo talks about".

Marcus sighed heavily and nodded.

"Oh, man" she murmured fixing again her attention on the body. "What a mess".


	3. Chapter 3

Finally a glimpse of Tony! ;P

So many thanks to Zee Viate who always has a kind

word for me, and to my great beta-reader Crystal

**Chapter 03**

The scene had cleared out like a nightclub with the music shut down. The narrow path, full of cars just a few minutes ago, returned to its deserted appearance. Most of the patrol cars had disappeared along with radio noises and slamming doors, and so have done the scientific and coroner vans. The area was lit only by a few street lights at the sidewalk and the glow coming from the inside of one of the cars still parked there.

Sheila twisted her gloved fingers, trying to remember what it was like to actually feel her hands. She snuggled deeper into her coat, squirmed into her seat and looked at his companion, who seemed absorbed by some point on the gravel beyond the windscreen. Marcus hadn't said too much since the girl's body had been lifted and, although it was normal for him to behave like this, Sheila felt that this silence wasn't the characteristic one of the veteran agent. She had gotten herself into the battered car out of curiosity, but now she hesitated and kept her mouth shut whenever ideas for conversation tried to pop out. There was a certain something in the way Marcus leaned against the window glass that prevented her to break the silence wall he had built around. She sighed again and pulled higher the collar of his coat, burying the tip of her nose.

"How old do you think that girl was?"

The question caught her off guard and for a moment she doubted whether his partner had actually spoken.

"About twenty" she said cautiously, not at all convinced that the big man knew he had spoken aloud. She started playing with the fringes of her scarf, braiding them until there were merely a few strands loose.

Marcus nodded slowly, as if she had confirmed his assumption.

"The same age as the other girls?" Sheila asked. She turned in his seat and faced his partner, who insisted on keeping his features in the shadows.

"No, they were younger."

"Oh, so the only thing that links the others is how they were found. How old were they?"

"It depends: the youngest was 14, but we have known that fact lately."

"What about DiNozzo? I thought he was working on cold cases."

"He was the one who linked a Jane Doe in the deposit with the first girl who was kidnapped, and he was also the one who found other cases with more similarities."

"Which similarities?"

"Abducted, detained for nearly two years, suffocated and then buried in a park wrapped in black plastic."

"And no one had made the link so far?"

"The cases were conducted by different departments and the cause of death wasn't striking. There was no trace or mark on them. Not even the ages matched, and although all of them showed similar features, they aren't that much alike."

"And how did DiNozzo know where to look?"

"He... he has a theory" Marcus said, and Sheila noticed that he had grown suddenly uncomfortable and diverted his attention to the mysterious point beyond the front glass again.

A little smile touched her lips. She knew the reason of that behavior. Until then, they had been talking about plain facts, information you could find in the files, but now they were walking into the field of assumptions, where Marcus never had been particularly comfortable in.

"He believes that the murderers are based on a timeline" his partner continued very reluctantly.

Sheila frowned, unsure about the implications of that assessment. She thought of the first alleged victim, 14 years old; and this one was 24, at most.

"Do you mean that he or she chose the victims based on their age?" She said, seeing his guess confirmed by a nod.

Sheila began to understand the problems DiNozzo should have stumble upon when he had tried to explain his discovering. That theory had the solidness of tissue-paper cufflinks and it could be applied to a great deal of victims.

"So, what did he do?" She wondered aloud, not expecting an answer and mostly talking to herself. She returned to the task of untying the fringes of her scarf, by now totally filled with knots. "He looked into old unsolved murders. I guess, being in cold cases, it was easy to lay hands on more than one file with weird similarities and when he saw a pattern he kept looking for the things they had in common: the locations, cause of death..." She let the silence filled the gap and made her fingers dance in the air. A sudden thought stopped the motion in its tracks and she turned to look at her partner who was eying her with curiosity "What about the captain?"

Marcus let out a heavy sigh that could have carried some curse in it, but he said nothing, and again looked away.

'_So that's the problem,_' Sheila guessed. He knew his friend had a poor opinion of their boss and she agreed with him in some aspects, mainly because she spent too much time with the man not to be influenced by his words. But she didn't quite understand the apparent hostility the captain displayed towards detective Anthony DiNozzo. She suspected there was a story behind it, but it seemed to be some guy stuff she was kept apart from.

Sheila knew almost nothing about the young detective, who was responsible for the cold cases, a one-man department where he was boss, secretary and officer. That position had been marked as a punishment and had passed from hand to hand like a hot potato, nowadays on DiNozzo's domain. The few times she had seen him, the man had been flirting with some very young, very pretty girl from the precinct, but toward her he had only expressed a kind courtesy and had never try to get into her pants. Sheila didn't know if she should feel grateful or upset for the lack of interest that undermined her self confidence, for he was cute and she was single. Well, most of the nights. It was crystal clear that long term relationships weren't his strong point, but she didn't mind that. Somehow, she assumed it had something to do with Marcus being her partner. She thought it was sweet the non asked protection he kept over her, but sometimes it made her wonder about the implications.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden rumble of the engine when Marcus started the car.

"I'll see you at the station" The big man said without looking at her.

"Uh, sure..." Sheila said a little annoyed by the treatment. '_And here you were thinking he cared about you_' She got out of the car and slammed the door with too much force.

* * *

Marcus took the long way back to the precinct so he could think about the early events. He was aware of the need to make a decision and didn't want to take it lightly. He thought about the young man who had arrived just two years ago and had stirred up the precinct with his presence. Long and lean, he talked too loud, acted with too much enthusiasm and his jokes only amused himself. However, Marcus couldn't help but like the kid. Perhaps it was because he didn't remind him of himself at all, or maybe because he knew that under that carefree and childish demeanor, Anthony DiNozzo cared about each victim whose case had gone through his hands. Marcus neither knew nor cared, and though everything on that guy yelled "TROUBLE", he couldn't help but feel a rude and sincere affection for him.

He knew Sheila was angry at him when he saw her sitting at her desk, chewing on a pen and pounding the keyboard, and if he had have some kind of doubt about her frame of mind, it wiped out when she looked at him and averted her eyes with a frown. Marcus made a brief stop at the coffee machine to provide him with two cups and several sugar packets, which he left at her side as a peace offering. Fortunately for him, Sheila couldn't hold a grudge for too long and she was asking for his opinion minutes after, while pouring the sugar into her coffee mug.

Three hours later, the two reports were finished and Marcus was on the phone trying to talk to the coroner.

"With Dr. Rawdon, please. Tell her it's detective Brodor" he said to the young assistant who answered at the other end.

Just a few minutes later he heard a deep woman's voice over the phone.

"Rawdon here, talk to me."

" Jan, I'm Marcus."

"Ummmm, 5 in the morning, I suppose this is not a friendly call."

Marcus smiled at the playful tone. He had known Janet Rawdon for nearly ten years, he liked her and was glad that she was the one in charge of that case.

"I need a favor."

"Who doesn't?" She said with a hint of irony. "I'm all ears."

"They've brought in a young girl recently."

"One moment."

He heard the sound of papers and some voices in the background.

"Yes, Caucasian female, found in Union park."

"That's the one."

"What about her?"

"I need you to put her first on the list."

The silence on the phone line stretched and Marcus was tempted to break it and offer some back up to the request, but he knew Janet enough to wait patiently and let her evaluate whether she would or wouldn't grant the favor.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" the doctor asked, a glimpse of curiosity in her voice.

Marcus new that even if he didn't tell her anything more, she'll do what he'd asked for. However, he thought it was unfair to leave her in complete darkness, and so he decided to be as honest as he could.

"I think it may be related to other victims."

"A serial killer?"

"It could be, I'm not sure yet."

He heard her sighing and new voices in the background.

"Okay, I'll send the report within a few hours."

"Thanks Jan."

"You owe me."

True to her word, four hours later Marcus received a fax from the coroner's office with notes indicating that it was a preliminary report, and it lacked of several test result, and therefore it had no use in a trial. That was Janet way to cover her back.

By the time he had gathered all the information, it was 9 o'clock in the morning and the building had come to life. The corridors were full of police officers and the chatter had increased its volume. Marcus had two hours ahead until his shift ended and the sight of all these people, refreshed after a night of rest, made him felt tired and old. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then got up.

"There's no reference tag on it yet" Sheila said when she saw his partner standing up with the girl's folder in hand.

Marcus looked at her and this time Sheila didn't break the silence, just nodded and pretended she hadn't seen anything, returning her attention to the screen.

Now that he was in front of the door that led to DiNozzo's office, Marcus couldn't help but stop and fidget with the information he held in his hands. He knew that the doubt that anchored him to the floor was an illusion. He would go through that door and say the words that had been swirling in his head for hours now. Perhaps he was savoring the last moments of calm before the storm, since with this decision he was taking sides and not precisely the winning kind. Until now, he had shown special skills to avoid the confrontations that inevitably occurred in a place full of people with different points of view and varying purposes. He had never expected him to be the one throwing the thunderbolts.

'_Hopefully, you know how to swim against the current, kiddo_' Marcus thought with his hand now on the knob. He turned it with firm resolution making a step forward.

The young man raised his head when he felt the door opening and a smile spread across his face, as he recognized the figure that was blocking the light from the hallway.

"Marcus! What a surprise! What brings you here, big guy?"

"DiNozzo," if the tone of that first word was unable to shake the smile from his lips, the rest of the sentence certainly achieved that goal. "It's one of yours."

.

.

TBC

Next one full of Tony!

Thanks to all of you for following my little attemp as a writer. Enjoy the ride


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks for all the kind reviews. Really appreciate them :)_

_:  
_

**Chapter 04**

Although his face was like a mask, his eyes spoke volumes. The sparks that danced in DiNozzo's green iris seemed to be willing to jump off and burn out the carpet.

"Here, the preliminary report from the coroner's office" Marcus said holding out the folder with a stern gesture - there was something not quite right about Tony's eagerness.

"Don't tell me," the younger man said hopping off the chair and quickly closing the gap between the two of them. He grabbed the folder with an avid expression on his face and started reading it right away. "Same MO?"

"As far as we know."

"Jane Doe... No ID yet?"

"Working on it," Marcus said sinking down into the chair that Tony had just vacated. It was still warm and he let a pleased smile spread over his features. "How are you holding up, in this parody of punishment cell of yours?"

Silence answered the question and Marcus looked over his shoulder to see that Tony had remained in the same spot with his back to him. The young detective was looking through the papers with great interest and seemed to have blocked all external stimuli. After a few minutes, he turned around and walked to the desk, not diverting his attention from the information he was looking at.

"About 20 years" Tony murmured to himself lost in thought. He looked up with a frown and absently sat on the edge of the desk letting the folder rest on his thighs.

"She must have been kidnapped two years ago or so. If you followed the timeline, that is," he said, finally addressing Marcus. "We should be looking into missing persons from that time."

Marcus nodded making a mental note to himself to tell that bit of information to the officers in charge of the searching.

"Which one is she? The fourth?"

"No, the fifth one. Although she could be the sixth or the seventh, for all we know." Tony said and then pointed at the photos he had taped onto the far wall. "Samantha Waters 14, Linda Summerson 17, Claire Silverts 19, Rita Way 20, and now, our Jane Doe."

Marcus got up from the chair with some effort and approached the wall. DiNozzo had drawn a timeline with the dates of the abductions and deaths, adding the locations where the corpses were found just bellow each picture. Marcus made a short halt in front of each photo, trying to perceive the similarities between the faces. In some strange way, that wall looked like a shrine: following the stages of a person's life through its full growth. The veteran agent scratched his chin, where a 5 o'clock shadow was making its appearance. He wasn't sure if he was seeing things influenced by his friend's words, or there really was something in there.

"The captain would go off in a fit if you prove yourself right," he said turning his attention back to the younger man. "Maybe you'll be able to turn a punishment into the case of your life."

"He wouldn't be very happy. That I can foresee…" Tony said grinning with satisfaction and some mischievousness, but he became serious almost immediately. "This case... Is yours?"

Marcus' face turned grim and he looked Tony in the eye. The young detective stood still and made no attempt to divert his gaze. Marcus was the first to give in and, releasing a deep sigh, he shook his head.

"Right now I'm with the Morrison's case and also with the guy we found in the park with this lady," he pointed at the folder Tony still held in his hands. "If the captain finds out that I gave you this without his permission, I'll end up my days directing traffic."

"He would be an idiot if he does that," Tony growled resentfully. "He is going to give the lead to that brown-nose of Dunlap."

"Watch your mouth" Marcus murmured, but a smile of agreement crept its way to his lips. "You asked for it. What possessed you to ask out the captain's favorite niece?"

Tony raised his arms in the air in a gesture of innocence.

"How could I've known that? In my defense I must say that, when I found out about that little detail you guys kept from me, I break up with her."

"That's the problem," Marcus snorted. "You dumped her, nobody had done that in the past. You should have waited for her to dump you and not the other way around. After all, that's what she's done with half the precinct."

"What do you mean?"

Marcus head jerked toward his partner. Tony had left the folder on the table and was looking at him, the word *ignorance* written all over his face.

"Don't you know it?"

"Know what" the young detective asked frowning with confusion. He drew himself up to his full height, crossed the room with two long strides and stood mere inches from the older man. "Tell me."

"Well," Marcus hesitated, uncomfortable with the sudden lack of personal space. "Ok, so rumor has it that Anna is a free spirit who likes authority figures. In plain words, she's made almost every male officer in this building. You really didn't know that?"

"I'd got no idea," Tony muttered taking a few steps back and reaching blindly for the chair. "I'm so screwed."

"Don't worry, DiNozzo, you just have to wait until she lays eyes onto another fine officer of the law and the power of love heals her broken little heart." Marcus said with an ironic smile tugging up the corners of his lips and one hand over his chest in a dramatic pose.

"Bite me. This isn't funny"

"Yes, it is."

"Do you know that she still calls me? I think I've seen her near my building the other day. Well, at least her car was near my building."

Marcus pursed his lips, trying hard to contain the laugh that was threatening to leave his throat. This kind of things only happened to the young man.

"You've made quite the impression, kiddo. Now I'm beginning to see the full power of that DiNozzo's charm you don't stop bragging about."

"Shut up." Tony said good-naturally.

He turned his focus to the folder again, the smile melting away as it has been just a mirage. He took the autopsy photo, holding it up. The girl had short bob hair just below the ears that had been pulled back to reveal a childish face. She had wide, high cheekbones and full lips. She wasn't very pretty by Tony's standards, but she had big eyes that surely would have lighted when she smiled.

"She died two weeks ago," Tony said checking again the notes to make sure he hadn't misread anything. "It seems that she was buried yesterday."

"Yeah, I know," Marcus murmured, and a shiver ran down his spine when the image of the girl took the front seat in his mind. Like a frozen princess, her lips purple, her skin blue; it seemed that the mere touch would have shattered her into a million pieces, and vanished completely. "The cold" he added shaking his head to free it from those dark thoughts.

Tony nodded absently, not sensing the distress in his friend's tone.

"What are you going to do?" Marcus asked, breaking the young man concentration and hoping for something else to think about.

Tony let out a sigh and looked over his shoulder to the photos.

"I really don't know" he said, a sad expression on his face. "If I prove myself right, I'd get kick off the case; but if I don't, this guy will get away with it."

Marcus nodded in understanding.

"I guess you'll have to choose the better of two evils."

"Yeah..." Tony draw himself to the wall, a vacant look set in his eyes. He raised one arm and laid a long finger on the face the first picture showed – Samantha Waters. His next words were just a murmur not meant to be heard. "What should I choose in fact".

Samantha was was smiling - teeth encased in braces - to the person who took the photo. Someone had combed her hair in two long plaits that framed her high cheekbones. She was an only child and his disappearance had devastated the Waters' marriage. Tony could remember perfectly well when they learned that their daughter would never ask for another ride to the park. The mother's tears of despair and the father's hollow stare, like someone had turn off all the lights in his head. Although it had been almost nine years since her abduction, the couple hadn't lost their hope to see her daughter walking through the door again.

"If Dunlap gets the case it won't leave his desk tray," Tony muttered, rage dripping from each word. "I can't risk for it to become a paperweight."

There was a short silence and Tony's features hardened. He extended all the fingers, encircling the little girl face and then closed them into a fist.

"I'm gonna catch that son of bitch," he said letting his arm drop by his side.

There was such heat in the young man's words that Marcus couldn't help but feel like a hand clutching his chest. Silence filled the room and the big man took advantage of his friend absence of mind to study his features. Tony was looking at the victims like he was promising he wouldn't let them down. Marcus sighed quietly and rubbed his neck self-consciously. What he was planning to do for his friend would probably cost him a reprimand, and maybe it'd be for nothing, but he had to try. He couldn't let it rest, not after seeing that girl's face when they had opened the plastic bag. Once the decision was made, he took a step forward.

"I'm going to withhold this report as long as possible," Marcus said locking his eyes with Tony's green ones. "Try every trick you now, get all the information you can muster. When this girl-" Marcus tapped with one chubby finger on the folder Tony held to emphasize his words, "-get a name, it'll be impossible to keep it under McPherson's radar. So, get your act together and make this case yours."

Marcus gave a brief squeeze to Tony's shoulder and left the office with a parting nod. Tony stood, baffled, looking at the door with wide eyes and unable to utter a sound.

.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks for all the great reviews_. _Hope you like this one too._

:_  
_

**Chapter 05**

Anthony DiNozzo, sole agent in the cold cases' department, had spent the last thirty four minutes sulking. His eyes glued to the brownish cover of the report.

He hadn't expected that.

He had wanted to thank Marcus, but the words didn't come out. After all, he didn't really know if that was a favor or the last nail in his coffin. He couldn't believe the mess he'd got himself into. Like a man jumping into a swimming pool without looking beforehand if it was empty. If he opened that folder, he was assuming his position against the captain, and he wasn't sure he could handle that battle at the moment.

_'Make this case yours'_

Nice choice of words, pretty much a war declaration. The worst part was that he couldn't take them out of his head. Certainly, he was the one who had discovered the link among the victims and the one who was trying to gather intel reports to prove it right, but he had assumed that someone else would take over. He was just keeping the case alive until that moment came. Perhaps he excelled at his job a bit too much. He stroked lightly the cover, as to dust some dirt off of it and then started playing with the corner, bending it and stopping before he could even see the first page. Tony thought that Marcus would be the one to conduct the case. He relied on his friend ability and knew that he would be allowed to help them, even if it was off the record. That would have been enough. Tony's fingers froze in midair at this thought and his eyes turned toward the wall, where four faces were mute spectators of the doubts that were plaguing him.

'_Maybe I'm fooling myself_' Tony thought frowning as a slight apprehension began to grow within him with each passing minute. He got to his feet, unable to be still any longer. His long legs roamed the tiny space the four walls of his office limited. He sat back and rose up again, searching, among the piles of boxes and papers that adorned the floor, for a small ball matching the minibasket set hanging on the wall. It could be regarded as the sole object of personal nature that decorated the room. No photos, no posters, not even a miserable coffee cup with a catching legend on it. Tony had never considered this assignment to be permanent. He had convinced himself that in a few weeks he would be reassigned to homicides again, and therefore, he hadn't bothered to make the room comfy. It had been three months since he first set foot in that wreck of department and now he was beginning to see things from a different angle. When had it all started to go downhill?

Tony felt like King Midas' antithesis. Everything he touched was turned to shit. He had spent the previous months trying to put out the fires that had arisen, both in his personal life and work; prying for the structure to be sturdy enough to endure a few more kicks. Then, the girls came and for the first time in a while, he hadn't minded his apparent inability to sleep through the night, his disastrous relationships or the vendetta the captain had against him. These girls had been neglected, abandoned in oblivion, and thus, killed twice. They deserved better than to be a piece of paper among thousands of other lost souls with no closure.

He found the ball he was looking for, and a hint of a smile curled up on his lips. He began to throw it against the wall, being too noisy and not caring about it.

_'What are you going to do, DiNozzo? And the options: nothing or run away; are no longer possible.' _The ball hit the wall with a resounding 'tap' before rolling on the floor. '_Think of those eyes. They would follow you wherever you go.'_ His hand released the sphere, which balanced doubtfully on the edge of the rim. '_Permanent reminder that you not only leave physical things behind, but also pieces of soul._' The ball made one last spin bouncing off of the basket and landing on a precarious pile of papers that collapsed as the biblical Tower of Babel. '_And, what about Marcus?'_

If there was something Tony didn't like, it was to be beholden to anyone. He already owed the man a big time, just for frequenting his company when the rest of his fellow officers had scattered away from him, not wanting to be mixed up in another witch hunting. That was what had happened to his former partner, Dunlap, who had chosen to take a scorched-earth policy and had complained to the captain for Tony's antics. Thereby Dunlap had eluded the punishment of being assigned to cold cases and had drawn his desk near the captain's.

Tony dropped to his knees and began to pick up the papers. It made no sense mulling over those thoughts again, but he couldn't help it, the stab-back had hurt never the less. He let out a long sigh and gave up in his efforts to bring order to that mess. He stood up with effort, as if the weight of his decision pushed him down to the ground. He walked to the table and opened the file, took the scotch tape, cut a slice and went to the wall to place the picture of the last victim next to the others. Marcus had noticed something he didn't want to see; nobody but himself could be the one to bring it forward.

As it seemed he was set in destroying his career, at least he could do it in style.

The phone ring shook him out of his reverie. Tony was surprised to see 'unknown caller' displayed in the ID. For one second he thought about ignoring it, but finally he took the piece to his lips as he dropped back into the chair.

"The great detective' speaking."

"Toooooonyyyyyyyy"

"A-Anna?"

"Who else dopey? I'm in the café, in front of the precinct. Come down so we can talk."

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Tony said checking his watch.

"I play hooky, I wanted to see you."

"Anna, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Well, because A) We are not dating anymore and B) I'm working."

"Aw, come on, I just want to talk. I've been doing a lot of thinking and I've decided I don't want to brake with you."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose trying to stay calm. Why does everyone keep telling him what to do?

"Anna, I was the one who broke up. So, it's not your decision to make anymore."

"I know you've done it for my uncle, but you don't need to worry about it. I spoke to him yesterday."

And that was the reason for the hatred look he had received from his captain this morning. Just brilliant.

"You shouldn't have done that" Tony hissed holding the last threads of his patience with great effort.

"For you I'd do anything, sweetie pie."

'_Damn! Not the pet names again, _' Tony closed his eyes tightly. It's been something he couldn't bear since the first day they've met. He had gone from Tony to cherry, lover pie or any other name that had anything to do with food and deserts.

"Are you there, eye candy?"

'_No! I'm not; I went to India to preach celibacy!' _Tony let out another concealed sigh. He had tried to be delicate, direct and eventually, foul, but there was no way, that girl didn't get it.

"Anna, listen carefully. We are finished, finite, se acabó, ende. I won't go for coffee with you, nor now not ever and I don't want you to follow me to my house. Now, I'll hang up and you are not going to call me anymore. Is that clear? Remember I'm a cop; don't make me do something we'll both regret."

"Hey, don't get nasty on me. If you don't want to see me just say so. Geez, you're such a jerk! Call me when you're in a better mood"

"But... what-"

The next thing Tony heard was the empty phone line.

"I'm jinxed," he muttered staring dumb fooled at the plastic piece in his hand.

"Another jilted lover, DiNozzo?"

Tony flinched badly at the new intrusion. He whirled around in the chair to stare at Marcus' partner leaning against the jam, her arms firmly crossed over her chest and a bewildered look in her eyes.

"Officer Jamet" he said letting a huge and dazzling smile crept over his lips. It was designed to gain the time needed to measure the tone of a conversation he had no idea where it lead to.

"It's detective," she said with a pout that made her look even younger than she actually was.

"Of course, I'm sorry," Tony said courtly. "And, what brings you to my humble office, de-tec-tive?"

He watched the girl's forehead wrinkle in an increasing frown. It was so easy to tease her that Tony found a childish pleasure in doing so. But then, the atmosphere in the room changed when she took a step forward. Her eyes hold no traces of innocence now and her pose was far from friendly. Tony's smile didn't falter. If she wanted to play, they'd play. He was finally learning the dance steps and he wasn't planning on tripping anymore.

"I know what Marcus has done," she blurted out. "I have no idea what's your game, DiNozzo. And I don't care how you've managed to convince Marcus to do what he has done. I just came to tell you this: if you do something that could harm Marcus in any way, I'll make your life miserable. You got it?"

Tony's eyes widened in surprise and the smile froze on his face and then melted away leaving a shocked expression.

"Marcus?" Tony said perplexed. For a moment he had thought that she was going to ask him for the report.

Sheila took a step further and placed both hands on the table, using the fact that he was sitting to impose her height over him.

"You heard me," she said, nearly tripping over her own words. "If just a tiny bit of this shit stain him, you'll know what an angry woman is capable of, and although I have no doubt you have already tasted some of that in the past, you'll be surprised how creative I can be."

A minute of silence stretched between the two of them, and then Tony's face softened a little. He tilted his head to one side, a glint of curiosity shining in his eyes.

"Marcus is lucky," he murmured with something akin to eagerness coloring his words, and a cocky smile curling his lips.

"What?"

"Nothing" Tony said promptly. "I heard you"

After his experience with other partners in Phily and Peoria, Tony knew that loyalty was a scarce recourse which price was dropping. Nobody risks their neck for nobody and pretty much everyone had a dirty coin in their pocket. But she seemed to be oblivious to that fact, so he just smiled and nodded. Too young, too naive.

Sheila regarded that as acquiescence on his part, and with one last warning look, she parted away.

_'Oh yes' _Tony thought craning his neck to admire the movement of her hips with every step. '_Marcus is a very lucky man_.'

Then the door was closed and he couldn't see her or her hips anymore. He looked down and let out a surprised gasp when he saw three paperclips bent out of its form, twisted between Sheila's fingers during their conversation. He swore that girl couldn't be still for just two minutes. Next time, he should hide the clips or any other office dupplird out of her sight.

He sighed deeply and began to turn the pages of the report without paying real attention to the words. Then something made him lean over the table, while a cold sweat broke free down his spine. It was Marcus's description of the crime scene. Everything was exactly like the others except the corpse. Eyes open, hands tied and marks of struggle. Tony looked at the succession of pictures on the wall. It couldn't be… he couldn't be wrong. That girl had to be one of them, but then, the others had died more peacefully: faint marks of struggle, closed eyes and no rope to tie their hands. Maybe they were insignificant details but spoke of a different story and maybe not his story.

Tony felt like his defended theory was a house of cards, and someone had just decided to turn on the fan.

'_Great Anthony. Just great_.'

:

TBC

_I want to ask you a favor. Could you tell me more pet names related to food?_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N**: Sorry about the long delay (my only excuses are work and life) and thanks for all the reviews and the pet-names you gave me_

:)

**Chapter 06**

After what Tony should but wouldn't want to call a brief panic attack, the young detective went through several phases. The first was total lack of understanding of the situation. He pounced on the reports looking for anything he might had missed. However, after spending so many nights haunting those cases, he knew them by heart and couldn't find anything new in its inked words. This set him on a depressive mood that lasted not too long - it wasn't in his nature to mourn over things he can do something about. He spent those minutes staring at the photos and wondering if someone up there would be having a few laughs at his own expense. A wave of relief swept over him after that. He no longer had to worry about the captain's annoyance - and certainly not Detective Jamet's wrath - when all hell broke loose for both Marcus and himself. This sudden joy was abruptly interrupted when facing the harsh facts, and Tony realized that 'this' was bound to happen. Maybe not today, but sure in the near future. He was convinced that in time another victim would show, and then the present situation would repeat itself. Marcus would get his hands on the report and it would end up on Tony's desk, like a curse you cannot lift.

'She is one of them.' His guts told him, all his senses shouted at him that he wasn't wrong on this. Maybe there was something different about this last murder, but it had nothing to do with the killer. Most probably, the very nature of the victim when she was alive made her unique in the face of death. He had to figure out what distinguished that girl from the rest, and the quickest way was to know how she had died. He stood up with one fluid movement, as he took the thick coat that hung on the back of the chair. He would go to see the crime scene, talk to the officers who had found the body, and gather all the information he could to make this his own case.

* * *

It was the crime scene less contaminated that he had seen in a long while. It had been a struck of luck that Marcus was the one in charge back then. The scientist guys had been quite careful while collecting the little evidence they had found. He crouched slowly, watching the gaping hole left by the corpse. It was shallower than the others. He took a handful of dirt, but his fingers didn't sink too deep as the ground was frozen and hard as a brick wall, probably the reason why the killer had dug barely two feet down leaving a piece of bag exposed. It seemed sloppy, an adjective that Tony was not used to associate with this case and a new inconsistency to add to the list. The killer must have been anxious about something. Perhaps a new victim had appeared? Most likely; the gap between the latest girl and this one had been a little longer than before.

Tony jumped into the hole and started peering at the walls and the ground for any clue that might have escaped to the scientist, but with no luck. He adjusted his collar trying to hide his nose and cheeks under the thick material. He was freezing there. Maybe that was why the murderer had not bothered to check out if the body was completely buried. He placed himself where he thought it had been the victim's head and looked up from there. The branches above him intertwined like fingers during prayer. There were no leaves, no birds to liven up the sight and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching a broken picture. A blue sky with thousands of cracks drawn by the dark bare branches of the trees. He knew the girl had been dead and wrapped in a plastic bag when she was buried, but he left the image sink in his brain as the last one she had come to see.

A noise made him turn in the spot and carefully scan the bushes. He got out of the hole quietly and walked toward a side path, following the strange metallic noise. He came to a poorly paved road with an obvious lack of use. The sound was caused by the screeching wheels of a shopping cart being pulled by a bum. Tony stared for a moment at the shrouded figure, covered with scraps of worn-out fabric, which swayed with each step. He couldn't make out the features due to the flowery kerchief on the head and the bright red scarf that covered the nose and mouth, but the person looked like an old woman. He checked the other end of the road wondering if it would have been possible for someone to get there by car. When he turned back, he found the old woman staring at him and Tony, in an instinct reaction, waved his hand. The lady raised her arm and seemed to hesitate before mimicking the gesture, then she turn her back to him and continued pushing the cart. Tony hesitated for a moment before deciding to follow her. It was just a hunch, but maybe, just maybe, she had seen something, anything. However, as he started heading her way, the old lady began a hasty retreat, forcing Tony to jog to catch up with her.

"Excuse me! Hey, lady, police officer here!" Tony cried out, but the old woman simply quicken her step, causing the cart to wobble dangerously.

He almost had her when his shoe slipped on an iced puddle. He managed to stay upright, but the thin ice broke under his weight and one of his feet sunk down in the frozen water stopping his pursuit abruptly. When he heard a scream and the sound of metal hitting asphalt, Tony knew he wasn't the only one being held back by mother nature barriers.

* * *

Roger Adams walked into the Missing Persons department, a cup of coffee in each hand and a bag hanging from his forearm. He slammed shut the door with his foot and deposited one of the cups next to his young partner Gabriel Santesmases, who was watching the computer screen as it returned a non-coincidence after another.

"Any luck?" Roger asked sitting on the edge of the table while rummaging through the bag.

The rookie shook his head and stretched in his chair cracking his neck and wincing at the strain in his tendons. He was too tall for those chairs and sometimes he felt like a pretzel when he tried to accommodate his long frame to the limited space.

"This sucks" Gabriel said pointing one long finger to the computer and its persistent beeping. He took the cup with a grateful smile and accepted the proffered snack. "Shouldn't we be doing Otis' research instead of this?"

"It's a personal favor. No one can be the wiser, not even the captain. Is that clear?"

"Can we get into any trouble?" Gabriel asked with a slight apprehension shown in his voice.

"Don't worry about that" the veteran officer said with a shake of his hand as a dismissal.

"Who wanted it?"

"Marcus."

"Who?"

"The head of the homicide division, Gab. The one you want to join some day, remember?"

"Oh! The big-guy with a hell of a partner. Dude, she's hot."

'Kids, always thinking with the brain downstairs' Roger sighed and proceeded to unwrap the sandwich giving it a huge bite. To be honest, though, he too had noticed Marcus' partner and her curves.

"And the captain? How come he knows nothing?" Gabriel asked.

"You ask too much, kiddo. Do your work and let me deal with the conspiracies."

The young man wrinkled his nose with disdain, but he said nothing and turned to stare at the screen again. After several minutes of silence, Gabriel leaned back with an exaggerated groan.

"Man, this is crazy. I don't think she's in there."

"Don't rush it, kiddo" Roger replied calmly without lifting his eyes from the car magazine he was flipping through. After a moment he roused from the chair with a heavy sigh. "I'm going to get some candies. Need anything?"

"Nah, l'm good."

Gabriel watched as the door closed after his partner and then he picked up the to-do list he had made early that morning. He couldn't waste all his time monitoring the screen, waiting for something to pop up. He had to finish the reports and start compiling a new program for the DEA. He stopped the search for Marcus, inserted new parameters including the closest states around Baltimore and set up the new task. The computer would spend all day working on it, so he could do other things in the meantime. He didn't know Marcus personally and couldn't afford a reprimand for not submitting his work in time. He confirmed the changes and the computer began to search the new databases. Gabriel left the task running in the background and started working on his new program. As Roger had said, no one would be the wiser.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks all of you who are following this story and sharing your opinion.  
_

_Thanks to scousemuz1k for the beta-reader work :-)  
_

:_  
_

**Chapter 07**

:

If he were to make a top ten of the worst dates he had ever had, this one would win by far over the rest. Spending the night in a dingy cafe, with a pair of mismatched socks - he didn't want to know what he had stepped into in that puddle - and just one shoe, while the other one was over a tiny heater still dropping pink water. In front of him a woman sat, who seemed to have left time behind with each wrinkle. She had a pleased and childish smile on her face and was sipping from a cup of dark hot coffee, the same coffee that Tony had pushed aside when he had taken a sip that nearly made him retch. The cart with all the old woman's earthly possessions was parked outside. She had agreed to leave it there only after the young detective's firm promise that the goblins weren't going to take it, because, as Tony had said, it was next to a lamppost, and everyone knows goblins hate light and metal. She kept throwing short glances to make sure it was still there, though.

A low groan escaped from Tony's midsection reminding him that he had skipped lunch, but after scanning the menu, he decided it could be postponed a little bit longer for his own sake. He pushed the greasy cardboard towards the old woman who looked at Tony with such adoration shining in her eyes that the young man felt the necessity to compose a polite and somehow uncertain smile, and then sink deeper into his seat, trying to remember exactly how he had ended in that situation.

"How's the coffee?" Tony asked, looking for a way back to the real issue.

"Fantastic," the old woman whispered encircling the cup with both hands. "It's hot."

"Good, good. Errm, as I said earlier madam, I'm look-"

"Minnie," she interrupted him with a huge, toothless grin.

"Minnie?"

"Is what people call me," she said and then pointed to the headscarf.

Tony had fail to notice that, under all the dirty spots, what he thought at first to be flowers were in fact little mouses with pink dresses.

"I see," Tony said, and wondered if it would be worth it to try and find out the real name of the woman - she probably wouldn't want to remember either way. "Ok, errm, Minnie. I want-"

"You haven't told me yours," she interrupted him again, while taking a small sip from the cup and gazing at him with curiosity.

"What? Oh! Anthony DiNozzo. I already told you, when I helped you with the ca-"

"Yes, you told me your name, but not what people call you."

Tony squeezed his eyes shut for a moment trying not to lose himself in the conversation. Every time he thought he was beginning to channel the old woman, she came out with something different and made him lose the thread. He didn't know what else to do, so he tilted his head slightly to one side and played his last card, sincerity and pleading.

"Please Minnie, I need your hel-"

"You want to know about the elf I saw the other day at the park, right? But it wasn't an elf, it was the bogeyman."

_'For God's sake'_ Tony thought, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting a small sigh escape from his lips. He raised a hand to call the waitress – now he had another master plan; he was going to let the old lady ask for whatever she wanted to eat while he made a run for the door and back to sanity.

"I'll tell you how I know it was the bogeyman," Minnie continued, oblivious to Tony's intentions, and leaned forward across the table to place a hand with fingers like spider limbs over Tony's forearm. The young man fought the urge to remove his arm, but he stretched his body to let some air between them. He was starting to feel like Jack Nicholson in 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.'

"I saw him putting a girl into his magic bag. I saw him take her into his den, a black hole in the ground like the mouth of a beast that swallowed both of them. Then only he came out, but he'd left his human mask behind and I could see his eyes. They were black pools of nothingness, and there, in the depths of those pits, I saw the monster he was concealing."

Tony's arm hung boneless in the air as his gaze focused back on the woman. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest and when the waitress came, he waved her away without much of a thought.

"Minnie, please, I need to know what this man looks like."

"Are you a white knight?"

Tony screwed up his eyes, but he wasn't going to let it go, so he took a leap of faith and jumped into the woman's bizarre world.

"Yes," he said with all the seriousness he could muster. "I _do_ kill monsters, but I need your help fighting this one. I've been chasing him for a long time, but he's very smart, always one step away from me. I need to know the human disguise he's hiding behind."

"What for? I'm sure he would have changed his mask by now."

"No, not this ma- monster, he is full of pride and thinks that nobody can catch him. He doesn't change his face, because he doesn't fear us. He wears the same mask to mock us, to laugh with the same lips that we can see when he is human."

"Good Lord" the old woman said in a shaky voice, clamping both hands over her mouth.

Tony thought he had overdone it when she looked away and began playing with the loose ends of the shawl that covered her shoulders.

"I can't help you" she whispered, almost so low that Tony had to lean forward to catch the words. "I didn't see his face well. It was too dark and I was afraid of being discovered, so I hid behind a trunk. I didn't want him to take me too."

Tony's heart sank into his stomach taking along his hopes about having a physical description of the killer. Yet he knew he should count himself lucky for finding this woman. He wasn't going to let it rest that easy, so he hinted at the best smile of his arsenal - the one designed to charm the listener - while his eyes held no warmth, just a calculating glint. He was going to drink every drop of information the woman called Minnie had in her head, even if she didn't know she had it.

* * *

:

Two hours had passed by since Gabriel Santesmases had left his desk for the day. His computer was still on, running several programs he expected would be done for the next morning when his shift began, so he could check the final results. One of the programs let out a low beep and the screen came to life showing the face of a woman in a khaki uniform with a serious expression calming her features. A new window opened in the terminal, the red warning letters in sharp contrast against the black background.

_Geisser, Theresa_

_Notice of search activation_

_NCIS Washington DC_

* * *

:

Leroy Jethro Gibbs, former Marine and current NCIS agent, was trying to figure out the shapes hidden in the shadows of his basement, while taking short sips at his dark coffee mixed with brandy. Both flavors were so strong that he didn't know which was the one burning his throat, but he appreciated the warmth that spread inside him when the liquid settled in his stomach. An idea had been growing in his mind for some time now and he was debating about letting this idea became a fact or throwing it away. He left the cup on the workbench and began to measure the room with long strides. It was shorter than he expected, but enough for what he wanted. He stopped in the middle of the basement, the light bulb just above his head erasing his shadow from the floor, and a satisfied smile spreading over his features. At that moment a shrill noise interrupted his reverie and Gibbs began to grunt and curse while he looked for the rowdy device. He took the phone, holding it at arm's length, but the beeping continued in spite of his reprimands.

Which was the key to take the call? Someone had explained it to him that morning, but Gibbs had been too busy with something else to pay attention, and now, without his glasses and with a lot of keys with fuzzy symbols on them he wondered if that so-called marvel of technology would survive a close-range shot. Squinting his eyes, he got to discern something that could be the drawing of a phone, so he pushed it.

"Gibbs."

"Well, I just lost a bet," a deep voice said. Gibbs soon recognized it as the one belonging to the NCIS director, Tom Morrow. "I thought you would have shot your phone by now."

"Adapt or die," Gibbs said with a smile.

"Or find someone to do the work for you," said Morrow.

"That would be the next option, Sir."

Gibbs wasn't known for his small talk and Morrow wasn't one to beat around the bush so he went straight to the main point of this call.

"Remember Paul Thomason?"

"Yes, he died last summer" Gibbs said cradling the telephone between his ear and shoulder to pour more brandy into the cup. "Friend of yours?"

"From college, he was a good man."

"And a good agent" Gibbs acknowledged.

"Do you know anything about his last case?"

"The abduction of a young girl. Yes, I remember."

"An alarm has been tripped. Someone in Baltimore has found a Jane Doe that matched the description of our marine."

The silence lasted a little longer than necessary, until the director decided to put into words the hint that he had left in the air.

"I want you to go there. That unresolved case didn't help to ease Thomason's conscience at the end of his days and I'd rather you be the one to check this out."

Gibbs took a long sip from the cup, rushing its contents while calibrating the answer he was going to give. The loyalty Morrow showed toward his friend was something commendable and one of the reasons that Gibbs felt so comfortable under his command. They had their differences, but the foundations of their motives were the same. 'Be true to your convictions and consistent with your actions.'

"I'll leave Bentley and Lekker in charge, they can handle it," he finally said, putting down the now empty cup.

"I've heard that Lekker is looking for new openings. Do you have any problem with it?"

"It's his choice," Gibbs said with a shrug showing in his words. "He's a good agent, but he has other aspirations."

"I'll tell Cynthia to prepare some options for you. You'll have them on your desk when you get back," Morrow said dismissing the subject to go back to the topic. "I'll send someone with the case file on that girl to your house this evening. Will you leave tomorrow?"

"As soon as I tie up a few things at the office."

"Good luck, then."

Both men hung up at once, without waiting or checking if anyone had anything else to add. Gibbs looked almost longingly at the bottle resting on the table. The golden content cast lively sparks that seemed like dancing flames on the wooden surface. Gibbs took the bottle and the light weight surprised him. When had he bought it? Yesterday, the day before yesterday? And there was only a third of it left. He was drinking more than he wanted to admit these last months, and although he hadn't had any incidents yet, he knew he was taking a very dangerous path. One that nobody seemed to have walked along without receiving some scars along the way. He had enough of those not to want to add any more to the collection. What was he looking for in those bottles? Why would he seem to be unable to find it? Gibbs carefully placed the bottle on the table without removing his gaze from its contents, not liking the little voice that kept telling him it was ok to pour a little more of it into his veins and mind.

_'Baltimore.'_

It might not be a bad idea to escape for a while from this place and try to see the whole picture from a more distant position. Breathe another air, perhaps just as poisoned as this one, but with different venom.

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**TBC…**


	8. Chapter 8

_A long chapter, hope you don't get bored with it ;-P  
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_Thanks for the support and the reviews, really appreciate them  
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**Chapter 08**

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Tony rested his forehead against the steering wheel, a long sigh escaping his lips. He was exhausted after three hours of playing Indiana Jones, trying to decipher the hieroglyphics of an ancient civilization. That conversation - halfway between reality and fantasy - had left him with a weird feeling of being in a world that wasn't the one he already knew. He checked his watch, surprised to see it was almost ten o'clock. Where had the day gone? At least he had obtained more information about the killer: Caucasian, male, tall and slim, and probably in his late fifties... He drove a white carriage - Minnie's words - large and with a square rear end. Tony thought that perhaps she was referring to some kind of suburban, although she could have been talking about a trolley for all he knew.

When Tony noticed the little white clouds his breath was forming in the cold air, he started the engine and turned up the heat. Then he checked the phone and found a message from Marcus and several missed calls from an unknown number he supposed to be Anna's. Ignoring the latter, he opened the message while pulling his coat tight around him.

'More information. Going to the Morgue.'

_'Wow, that's being concise'._ Tony thought and then checked what time the message was sent. Twenty minutes ago. Maybe it wasn't too late and he could join Marcus there. He set the thermostat a few degrees higher and dialed his friend.

"Brodor."

"Hey, Big Guy, are you in the morgue yet?" Tony asked, placing his free hand in front of the heating vent. He barely could feel his fingers. '_Damn freeze, damn city, damn winter'_.

"DiNozzo? I'm pretty close to the building right now."

"I'll be there in ten minutes, wait for me."

An odd silence flowed from the other end of the line and Tony took the phone from his ear, thinking that it might have switched off by itself, but then Marcus spoke again in a low and doubtful voice.

"Hmm, Tony?"

_'The captain knew. That's it. End of story'_, Tony thought holding his breath.

"Do you really want to come?"

Okay, that wasn't what he expected.

"Come again?" Tony said, totally wrong-footed.

"Did you see who signed the report?"

Tony checked his memory, but he couldn't find that bit of information in his head. The truth was, he hadn't paid any attention to the signature at the bottom, but it had to be someone they both knew and for some reason Tony and _whoever_ didn't get along. He could only think of one doctor.

"Mike Reed," Tony guessed, holding back a curse.

"Erm... No."

"Allan Morris?" Tony tried again.

"..."

"Stillman?"

Ok, so maybe there was more than one creepy doctor who hated him.

"It's Janet Rawdon!" Marcus deadpanned.

"Oh! Yeah, that's probably worse," Tony agreed, burying his head in his arms in a defeated gesture. At least she was a good examiner. The best, according to Marcus.

"Just don't leave me alone with her and I think we could manage a civilized conversation."

"Sure thing," Marcus snorted wryly. "Bring coffee and maybe she'll even let you past the door."

"She can try not to," Tony murmured to himself in a low menacing voice. "Okay, I'll see you there," he said out loud, snapping his phone shut.

Tony had met Janet Rawdon eight months ago in a homicide case. Janet was a stern woman, with a stern face and a stern pose. She barely smiled, so it wasn't a surprise when she didn't find the humor in Tony's comment about the freshness of one of the bodies in her forensic room. She had shot him a look from her stern eyes that had raised red flags in Tony's mind and frozen the smile midway to his lips.

However, the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back had been that Tony somehow managed to get the doctor's favorite assistant to leave town in the middle of a workload. But it hadn't been his fault! Tony had no idea that the girl he was flirting with in that pub was the assistant's fiancee. He certainly didn't know that the boy had been watching them at the time the girl had dragged Tony out the door and into her apartment. Tony was the real victim there! He had found himself in the middle of a domestic fight when the boy arrived and saw the young detective shirtless and lying flat on the coach, not the best posture for that situation. Tony had collected his things and fled the scene without much of a word. The couple was having problems before Tony's appearance. He had been the excuse not the reason, but as well as in many other situations, the blame had fallen upon the one left to turn off the light.

Ten minutes after speaking to Marcus, Tony found himself in front of the building that housed the morgue. He peered from the car window, noticing that only two of the four street-lamps that lighted the facade worked, and one of them flicked intermittently giving Tony the impression that he was stepping into a bad horror movie. He shuddered, tossed those thoughts aside and got out of the car. The cold air bit against his exposed skin and he ran to the entrance, blessing the warm atmosphere that greeted him when he got through the doors. He quickly took off his coat as he scanned the deserted hall for his friend, spotting him next to a vending machine. Tony smiled and covered the space with silent steps until he was almost beside the veteran detective.

"What will be the lucky one?" Tony said in a low whisper.

"Geez, DiNozzo!" Marcus exclaimed. "Stop popping up like that!"

"My, we are jumpy, aren't we?" Tony replied with a huge smile. "You should decrease your caffeine intake, man."

Marcus grinned humorlessly and proceeded to insert a coin in the slot, bending down to retrieve a huge candy bar. To Tony's surprise Marcus handed it to him.

"Thank you," Tony said gleefully, and almost at once tried to unwrap it.

"It's not for you," Marcus said swatting his hand away. "I knew you wouldn't be bringing coffee."

"Aw, for the good doctor, then. Nice thinking."

"It may not look like it, but Jan loves chocolate."

"My bets were on arsenic," Tony muttered. "Hey, can this qualifiy as bribery?"

"It's called a peace offering, DiNozzo, and sometimes it's the gesture that matters."

"A wise man you are, my young padawan."

"It wouldn't hurt you, either, to keep a short leash on that tongue of yours" Marcus said with a stern look.

"I must say, my tongue has been catalogued by the female gender as one of the most-"

"Don't go there...," the big man said rolling his eyes. "I don't care and I don't want to know. Do me a favor and behave yourself for a change."

"Yes, mom."

Tony held the door open for his friend, stepping in after him, only to witness how the expression in a face could morph from friendly invitation to cold disinterest in a heartbeat.

"Good evening, Dr. Rawdon," Tony said with his most charming smile as he handed her the candy bar with a flourish.

Janet raised a blond eyebrow, not moving any other muscle of her angular face, and turned dark eyes toward Marcus, who was trying to muffle a laugh.

"Very funny, Marcus," she said with a curt gesture, taking the offering and throwing it into the trash-can.

Tony let out a surprised yelp, but he didn't dare to go and rescue the candy bar, not with those eyes staring so intently at him.

"Leave it there, DiNozzo. Its work is done." Janet turned around, motioning for them to follow her.

Tony nudged Marcus with his elbow to draw his attention and then pointed to the trash-can with his head.

"We started on the wrong footing, too" Marcus said in a low voice. "After a gruesome case - where I was wrong and she was right - I brought her a big basket full of chocolates to make it up. Also, to say I was sorry."

"What happened?" Tony asked curiously.

"I'm diabetic," the doctor replied without turning her head.

They reached the last autopsy table, where the girl's body lay modestly covered by a white sheet.

"But I thought it was a nice gesture," Janet added with a slight smile softening her features. Then she pointed to the corpse with one long finger. "I think I know what killed this girl."

"Wow! What's that?" Tony exclaimed when he spotted a big black bruise on one of the pale arms.

"What? Oh! Those are abrasions, where a frozen surface has made contact with the skin," replied the doctor matter-of-factly.

"Can it happen to us?" Tony asked, slightly alarmed at the thought of the low temperatures outside and the frozen streetlamps and fences.

"If you find yourself on the floor of a freezer, it is quite probable." Janet said, shrugging her shoulders. "But that's not what-"

"A freezer? Wait, somebody put this girl in a freezer?"

"Someone drugged her, put her in a freezer - for quite some time - and then buried her," she explained patiently, not understanding the shocked expression on the young man's face.

"But in your report you said she had been dead for two weeks only," Tony said, his voice pitched up.

"Read it again" Jan said coolly, as if she had been falsely accused. "I said that she had been _buried_ probably two weeks ago and I came to that conclusion when I checked the temperatures these last weeks and because of the thawing of the flesh."

Tony opened his mouth, but neglected to say anything and closed it again. She was right; they had assumed the girl had been buried right after the murder. _'You're at the top of your game, Anthony,'_ he thought mercilessly, '_Or not'_.

"Given the condition of the body, I couldn't tell the exact time when she was killed, and now it's quite complicated," Jan added, passing by DiNozzo's side. "I don't know how long the corpse was in that freezer. I could only make assumptions and I certainly wasn't going to put that into a previous report."

"All right then," Marcus said locking his eyes with hers. "When do you '_think_' she was murdered?"

Janet was not one to be easily deterred and she calmly folded her arms over her chest, leaning slightly against the table. She didn't like the situation at all. Giving baseless information could lead to wrong conclusions and end up with a waste of time they couldn't afford. She saw the silent plea in the young man's eyes; she also noticed the strain around his mouth and the tense posture of someone solely relying on sheer determination to not give up. She didn't owe him anything, nor Marcus for that matter. She lowered her eyes to the still form in the table. But that girl... She sighed and took off her glasses, leaving them hanging over her chest.

"Enough with the puppy look, DiNozzo," she said, raising her head with a defeated, but somehow warmer expression in her eyes. "I think this girl was murdered one to two years ago. I found traces of a drug that in low doses can act as a tranquilizer, but taken regularly or in high concentrations leads inevitably to death."

She looked up to the two detectives, a small frown creasing her forehead.

"I think it's time you tell me what's going on here," Janet said. "I assume there are more girls like this one."

"Four, to be precise" Tony hopped up on a vacant table and then leapt off, rubbing his ass. "Cold!"

Janet rolled her eyes and looked toward Marcus for an explanation.

"There might be four more victims" he said cautiously.

"Might?"

"We're not sure-"

"I'm sure," Tony cut him off and then held up a finger when he saw the big man was going to protest. "Humor me, Marcus. Ok, so here's the thing. This guy - our killer - kidnaps a girl, holds her captive for two years, then kills her and buries her in a park. And I'm thinking that maybe, he used the same compound that you found in this victim in the others. It's way easier to have someone on tranquilizers to keep them from running away."

He said all this mimicking his words, with his hands holding an imaginary shovel and burying an invisible body. Marcus snorted good-naturedly and Janet produced an indescribable sound that could have been a laugh. Both of them sobered almost immediately at the thought of where they were.

"What was the COD?

"Respiratory failure," Tony blurted out.

"That could be possible. Their lungs would have stopped working in the end. Depending on the constitution and the age it could take more or less time, but the outcome would be always the same. But here, the compound has been frozen right after it was administered in a high dose."

Janet played with her glasses, twisting the cord that held them around her neck.

"Assuming that you're right, and I'm not saying that you are," she added, raising her hands up when she saw the pleased smile spreading over Tony's features. "I´ll make a leap of faith and say the other girls were provided with the same drug during their captivity time. Throughout that period the body would assimilate it. Also the low concentrations and the time passed since the corpse was buried until it was discovered wouldn't help matters."

"But, we should have been able to find some kind of trace." Marcus said with a frown.

"Not really," Janet said shaking her head.

"Why?"

"Because we didn't know what we were looking for," Tony said staring at some vague point on the wall. He let out a deep sigh and his shoulders sunk a little. "Human health is based on a chemical equilibrium that can be easily altered, too easily, in fact. The tests based on blood and tissue residue have a big slot between what is normal and what is out of range. In that gap almost anything fits. We have specific poison tests, but if a certain compound isn't registered or has been somehow altered, that'll make it nearly impossible to detect in such low concentrations. It's like trying to find one specific drop of water in the sea."

"That's correct" the doctor said, slightly surprised by the young man's words. She thought it'd be more difficult to make the two men understand that. She let her lips curl up in a smile of approval and Tony responded with one of his own.

"Ok," Marcus said, coming closer to the table, but being careful not to touch it. "So, now you can look for it in the other bodies."

Jan nodded, suddenly infected by the enthusiasm she saw in the big man's eyes. She had never had such a good time batting theories back and forth. The truth was that police officers never came to her for an opinion, just for the physical proof. This was totally out of her usual game and she was enjoying every bit of it.

"Crap," Tony said in a deflated tone, while leaning heavily over the table.

"DiNozzo?" Marcus asked, confused by the sudden change in his friend's mood.

"You need the bodies, is that right?" Tony said looking up at the doctor.

"It would be easier that way."

"We need an exhumation order, don't we?" Tony added, this time directing the question to the senior officer.

"Well, yes."

"And before we could ask a judge for it; who would have to grant our request?" Tony finished, raising both hands over his head like a magician would do at the end of a trick.

"McPherson," Marcus muttered, realizing at once what that meant.

"Care to elaborate?" the doctor said, searching for her glasses and biting down on an earpiece.

"Sure, I'll explain," Tony said with an edge to his words. "To obtain an exhumation order you need a pretty good reason."

"A serial killer seems like an excellent reason to me", she shrugged.

"It would be, if he was a known serial killer," Marcus said. "But our captain thinks this is some crazy idea that only lives in DiNozzo's mind."

Tony waved both arms toward his friend in an exaggerated gesture. He was running out of patience as they hit one brick wall after another.

"Right in one!" he almost cried. "But that's not all, 'cause this girl's death isn't like the others in the strict sense of the word. We can't link her murder with the others, it's totally different!"

"Calm down, DiNozzo, getting worked up isn't helping," Marcus said, his voice low and soft. "Do you remember the names of the detectives from the other cases?"

Tony took a deep breath in a vain attempt to control his emotions. He was tired and hungry, two facts that didn't help to improve his current mood. _'Focus, Anthony, you can't lose it now'_. He ran a hand over his face and let it rest over his mouth. _'Names, names, names' _he chanted in his head, searching through his memory. He could see a plan developing behind Marcus' eyes and was eager to follow his lead.

"Carl Mongan, Russell Hillmer and Javon Buczynski. Those are the active ones. Samantha Waters missing case was conducted by... Clasby or something similar. He retired two years ago."

"Okay, I know Carl and Javon. I can ask them for the case files and the complete tests without filling a request." Marcus said. "That'd do?"

Jan shrugged noncommittally.

"I hope so," she said, placing her glasses on the tip of her nose and looking over them at Marcus.

"That should do," Marcus said gratefully.

"Maybe" Jan added with a mischievous smile. "I could do something about the other one. If you tell me the name of the doctor who did the autopsy, I could take out the records before anybody notices. I have one or two aces up my sleeve."

"Ha-ha, yeah, one, two and probably three," Marcus said.

Lost in his own world, Tony watched as Marcus and Jan started a lighthearted banter between them. A wave of jealousy spreading out of nowhere caught him by surprise, and he backed away from them a little. Marcus had friends everywhere, there it was: the doctor who had agreed to catch on some favors for him, the guy in the research team who didn't ask for anything as he set Marcus's search first, and the detectives who were going to give him the needed information to pull off this case.

So maybe the Big Guy had an out-going personality, and had been on the force for quite sometime now, but Tony didn't think he could get that level of commitment even if he spent half of his life in the same place. It wasn't in his nature. Never had been.

But he wanted to.

:

**TBC**

_I'm not going to make you wait any longer, next chapter Gibbs and Tony__ finally meet each other_**  
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	9. Chapter 9

_More Gibbs!_

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**Chapter 09**

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Marcus pushed aside the stack of papers that threatened to engulf his coffee cup and groaned wearily while stretching out the kinks of the night. As head of the homicide department he could have chosen whatever shift he wanted, but a friend had asked him for a favor and he hadn't had the heart to say no... He was like that sometimes. At least Sheila didn't mind working the graveyard shift, thank God for small favors.

He looked over the partition searching for his partner and founding her sharing a few laughs with a girl from the cleaning staff. Marcus let out a sigh of relief at seeing her smiling. Hopefully, she wouldn't still be mad at him for abandoning her with all the paper work while he made that little escape to the morgue. In fact, he had been trying to make up to her once he came back, but Sheila wasn't too happy with the idea of working behind the captain's back, and she let him know about it every chance she got.

If Marcus was truthful with himself, he didn't like it either. It was too risky, and the most probably outcome would be one of them facing a reprimand or something worse. He could endure that, he was old enough to know the inner workings of this place, but he didn't want to put his friends in unnecessary jeopardy, especially DiNozzo, who could lose his job if he kept yanking the captain's leash like that.

Marcus rubbed his stubbly cheek self-consciously, thinking about the young man and the haunted shadow that had been lingering in his eyes when they had said their goodbyes. He knew it had been there, numbing his features and hardening his expression, but by the time DiNozzo realized he was being watched the shadow disappeared, replaced by a fake smile that must have hurt the boy to plant on his lips. Marcus had suggested DiNozzo should go home, he knew the young man was in need of a good night's sleep, but Tony had shrugged the proposition off nonchalantly and said something about a pub not so far from there, with good booze and better chicks.

Sex and alcohol, the best ballast to drown a man's fears, but if you weren't careful enough you could end up not knowing which part of your soul should remain above the water.

A soft coughing sound brought Marcus's attention towards the young officer who had been watching him for a while now.

"Erm, lieutenant? Sorry to interrupt" the kid quietly said, his eyes roaming the place until they settled on his worn out shoes. "May I have a word with you?"

Something Marcus would never get used to, was this utmost respect the rookies treated him with. Maybe that was the reason he liked Sheila's and DiNozzo's company; they seemed at a loss as to how a chain of command operated.

"What's the trouble?" Marcus asked, trying not to sound as weary as he felt at that moment. He took his reading glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. The boy's face

looked familiar, but he couldn't place it and he was way too tired to search his memory for a name, so he just waved a hand and prompted him to continue.

"Well, erm, it's about the search you asked Sgt. Adams for. We have a hit on the Jane Doe"

"We've got a name?" Marcus asked, his senses on full alert now.

"Erm, yes... her name is... hm, Theresa Geisser."

Marcus let a pleased smile pulled at his lips and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"That's a good job" he grinned, standing up with some effort and thrusting a demanding hand toward the young man, whose reaction was to back away, throwing quick glances over his shoulder.

"You see, ... um ...the thing is...um, the captain has the report"

Marcus's eyes widened as he leaned forward, placing both hands heavily on the desk and making the tower of papers tremble like a snake's tail. The kid slid not so subtly behind the partition, using it as a cover for his thin frame.

"She was tagged," the young man hurriedly explained when Marcus didn't seem to want to go further. "Apparently NCIS was also looking for her"

Marcus brows met in the middle of his forehead, making a V sign over his eyes. He leaned back again, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"N-What?"

"NCIS, you know? Naval cops."

"When did that happen?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"And why am I hearing this now?"

"I ... I left the search running when my shift ended. The alarm just went off when there was no one there, and NCIS called the captain to let him know that they'd send an agent to collect the files."

At hearing that Marcus stood up as if the chair suddenly burned.

"When?" he asked, while tucking his shirt into his pants with one hand, and stroking his disheveled hair with the other.

"I don't know, but I've seen someone wandering around, asking for the captain's office."

Marcus grunted in disgust as he grabbed his crumpled jacket from the back of the chair and strolled away, only pausing for a second to send a stern glance toward the young man, who basically attempted to merge with the wall.

"We're not finished here," he whispered, anger dropping from each word, and then walked away with long strides.

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* * *

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After a two hour journey, a greasy breakfast and a couple of not tool legal turns, Gibbs had arrived at the Northeastern police station and now was standing in Captain Aden McPherson's office, observing the man's profile while he spoke over the phone. The captain had been more than eager to comply with Gibbs demands about the Geisser case, so he couldn't quite comprehend why it was taking so long to find the files he needed.

Gibbs had situated himself near the door, where he could see the whole office with one glance, but his eyes were fixed on the faltering smile of the captain, watching as it grew smaller with each word. Also, the voice that had been so full of pride had become a mere whisper as the captain dealt with whoever was at the other end of the line. When McPherson sent a nervous glance his way, Gibbs knew with some certainty that this trip wouldn't be as easy as he'd expected.

The ex-marine's gaze followed the captain's figure when he stood up, phone still in hand. Their heights were almost identical, but McPherson seemed to be shorter due to his thin frame. He had tight dark skin stretched directly over the bones, as if someone had sucked the substance out of him, leaving just angles and straight lines. A white mustache covered his upper lip hiding the shape of his mouth and big dark glasses veiled his eyes. Gibbs had come to the conclusion that the captain, not being a man well versed in hiding his feelings, had built physical barriers to conceal them.

McPherson placed the mouthpiece on the cradle with too much delicacy and then turned around to pour a glass of water, in what Gibbs assessed as a diversionary tactic to gain some time. The patience of the NCIS agent was running thin by the time the glass hit the desk with a soft clank, and when he took a step forward with the idea of setting things straight for the sake of both men, the door opened and a big man entered the room filling the space with his enormous shape.

"Lieutenant Brodor," the captain said, screwing up his eyes in a gesture that reminded Gibbs of a snake mesmerizing its prey. Apparently the man's presence had washed away whatever doubts plagued him.

Gibbs eyed with curiosity the new performer in this little plot, somehow taken aback by the huge, yet harmless, presence. Lt. Brodor had stood by Gibbs side, like he wasn't too sure about what to do after his not too subtle entry, but the captain didn't seem to have the same problem, as he directed a polite and forced smile in the ex-marine's general direction and pointed gently at the now half-closed door.

"Could you spare us a moment, Agent Gibbs? Lieutenant Brodor has some important information concerning to your case, that we needed to discuss."

Gibbs frowned with disgust, but he was in unknown territory and he'd possibly be needing the captain's aid at some point, so he relented with a slight nod of his head; but when he placed one hand on the doorknob another force collided with the wooden surface from the other side, making him stumble backwards momentarily unbalanced.

"Ouch, sorry," a feminine voice said while trying to straighten both of them, and Gibbs caught a ghost of an apologetic smile on the woman's lips.

"Detective Jamet!" the captain blurted out at this new interruption.

"Sir," she said disentangling herself from Gibbs and stepping in front of Brodor, making a little shield with her petite figure. "We have new information about the cases."

Gibbs couldn't help but stand there, watching those three interact and suddenly tempted to see the end of that conversation – all that was missing was the popcorn! Gibbs observed the girl's antics to attract the captain's attention towards her, and the failing attempts of what he supposed was her partner to keep her still and quiet. A little smile crept over the ex-marine's lips, but then he caught the captain's eyes set on him, and the smile disappeared as fast as it had appeared. He gave a quick jerk of his head as an answer to a non asked question.

"I'll be back in twenty minutes," Gibbs said, in a tone that made it crystal clear that he'd be crossing that doorway again in _exactly_ that amount of time, so if they wanted to clear things up they'd better be fast.

After the departure of the NCIS agent, McPherson turned his attention back to his subordinates.

"Who is Theresa Geisser?" the captain asked, waving the report he had found that morning on his desk.

"We found her body at Union Park on Tuesday night," Marcus said, focusing all of his attention on the captain.

"I thought it was a male."

"We found two bodies, sir. Unrelated to each other."

"So we have two separate cases," McPherson summarized bluntly.

"Yes, sir."

"And tell me lieutenant… How come there's no record about that second case in the data base and when I asked no one seemed to know what I was talking about?"

"Well, we were, hm, waiting for an ID," Marcus replied with all the seriousness he could muster. It was a lame excuse and he knew it, and judging by the captain's expression he knew it too.

Placing the folder on the table, McPherson poked a finger into it and made the file slide over the surface until it was close to the edge.

"Where's the rest of it?" he asked quietly, looking directly at the lieutenant.

"Detective DiNozzo has it" Marcus replied calmly, marking the title of the officer and holding the gaze of his superior without flinching.

The captain's eyes widened, but his eyebrows remained in a straight line over them. Of course it had to be DiNozzo; no other had the ability to stick his nose into every mess like the young detective. Yesterday, the man had been the main point of his niece's monologue about true love and other nonsense. (He loved the girl dearly, but she wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer.) And now that naval cop asking for a case that nobody seemed to know a thing about? It shouldn't have been a surprise to find that the missing files had ended in the wayward young cop's hands. If something was out of its natural course, the only logical reason was that DiNozzo had decided to put a foot into the stream.

"I see," the captain murmured with contemp. "I assume this has something to do with the serial killer he claims to have found in the mist of cold cases. How lucky of him."

"Sir, there are facts that confirm Detective DiNozzo's theories."

McPherson raised a hand cutting the veteran detective off. He didn't want to hear those 'facts'; he knew them by heart from all the times the young officer had told him about them. Such a waste of time. The kid should be writing crime fiction instead of being a cop.

Maybe DiNozzo had some hidden talents, but they were just too well hidden, and sure enough weren't the kind Captain McPherson could get interested in. Dunlap, on the other hand, was a promising young man; serious, responsible and with a dad and an uncle, financially and politically well situated. McPherson couldn't waste any time on a stray bullet like DiNozzo, so he had thought that if he cut the boy's wings enough times, eventually, they wouldn't grow back and DiNozzo would be left with two options, to give in or leave.

The latter was a possibility Captain McPherson coveted with delight. The young detective had nothing to give but trouble and his exile into cold cases had been the first step in getting rid of something the captain considered a burden, and a noisy one at that. But DiNozzo had proven to be more resourceful than McPherson had given credit for, and instead of burying his head and keeping quiet, the young man had been spreading ridiculous theories with no grounds and finding weak links among a series of murders. To top it all, he had found a listening ear in the head of their homicide department, but 'that' was something Captain Aden McPherson could use to his own benefit.

Marcus Brodor had been a thorn in McPherson's political ambitions from the very beginning. He knew that the captain's chair wasn't occupied by the thick bulk of Lt. Brodor just because he had turned down the offer two times already. McPherson felt like he had the title just because Brodor allowed it, and the only advantage he had over the big man was his apparent lack of knowledge about his own influence. After twenty-five years in the force, Brodor had gained a lot of contacts, born from confidence and friendship. Almost everyone liked him for his good nature and owed him favors.

No, Brodor wouldn't be easy to get rid of, but maybe he could use DiNozzo as an asset to taint that influence. The boy was poison. Everything he touched wilted and that was what McPherson needed, since Sheila Jamet seemed to have grown a conscience under Brodor's guidance.

"The case falls within NCIS jurisdiction," the captain said evenly. "We have no choice but to cede jurisdiction to Agent Gibbs."

If that girl was the main pillar of their wild guesses, he'd make sure that they had no access to her by placing a whole federal agency in the middle.

"Sir," Sheila began, but Marcus placed one hand on her arm, silencing her.

The calmness in the big man's eyes wasn't what McPherson was expecting to find. He knew the lieutenant wasn't prone to jumping into a fight, but he wasn't known for walking away from one either. He'd give anything to know what he was thinking, but the twenty minutes were up; the NCIS agent entered into the room without knocking - large coffee cup in hand - and Captain McPherson had to put a hold on his musings.

"Agent Gibbs," Marcus greeted, stretching out a hand that was immediately accepted. "I'm Detective Marcus Brodor; sorry for interrupting earlier, but there were some things that needed to be cleared up. If you follow me, I'll give you the information you wanted."

"Detective Jamet can bring it here," the captain said, eyeing Marcus's calm demeanor suspiciously.

"Don't worry," Gibbs said, indifferently, sipping from his coffee cup while holding the door open for the two officers. "I prefer to hear these things first hand."

"Of course," Marcus said with a playful smile on his lips and a little nod. He passed the NCIS agent grabbing Sheila's arm and almost physically dragging her out.

As the door closed behind them, McPherson began to doubt the brilliance of his last move. The image of the two men walking shoulder to shoulder down the hall had had an unsettling effect on him, and for the first time he really considered the idea of a serial killer loose in his town. What would happen if DiNozzo were right and he'd let a man kill those girls and done nothing about it?

McPherson sat heavily on his chair thinking about that possibility. If DiNozzo got to tell his side of the history, he could kiss his political career goodbye. But not everything was lost yet, he just had to adjust to the new situation. He picked up the phone and a pleased smile pulled at the corners of his lips. His secretary's voice answered almost immediately.

"Bring detective Dunlap to my office, Mara."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, dear," McPherson said while leaning comfortably into his chair.

Truth had so many faces you could get lost in them. You just had to know which ones to show and which others to keep hidden.

:

* * *

:

Marcus's plan was simple; let DiNozzo do all the talking. God help him, but he was going to trust this total stranger's judgment and DiNozzo's persuasive powers to deal with each other. It would work or it wouldn't, but he was sure that they would have more possibilities with this outsider, than with the captain at the moment.

They reached the end of the hall and Marcus pointed to a door that was slightly ajar. There were marks on the surface where a plaque should have been. Instead of the missing piece, there was a handwritten post-it reappointing the room as the Cold Case office and just bellow it, another post-it, crooked to one side and tightened up with adhesive tape, that said:

'Officer in charge:

Awesome Detective A. DiNozzo

Knock before entering'

One silver brow arched as Gibbs directed a questioning glance toward Marcus, but the man just shrugged one shoulder unapologetically. There was no explanation to that, no one he wanted to give, anyway.

Marcus stepped forward, in a clear attempt to have a previous conversation with DiNozzo, but Gibbs shouldered his way in, not being a big fan of sugarcoated anything. He certainly wasn't expecting what he found in there, neither was Marcus, for that matter.

:

_**TBC**_

:_**  
**_

_AN/_

_Please don't hate me!_

_I'm really sorry for the long delay and for the cliffhanger. I know I promised Gibbs and Tony would meet in this chapter, and although I can assure you that Tony is in that room and therefore they met each other, I wasn't referring to that and I know that you know it, but it was the perfect place to stop writing and I had to describe the captain's personality and his encounter with Marcus, so please-please-please, don't hate me._


	10. Chapter 10

_Finally!_

_Thanks to tealrose for don't giving up on me ;P_

_to scousemuz1k just for being there_

_and to all of you for reading this_

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**Chapter_10**

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Marcus had the handle of the door in a hard grip, white knuckles matching even paler face.

DiNozzo had his head resting on a pile of papers, their corners dancing with the rhythm of his breath; in and out, back and forth...

He was sleeping – like a baby after a copious meal.

A low snore sent a post-it flying through the air, and broke the spell that seemed to have Marcus nailed to the floor. His glance flew toward the NCIS agent, and the big man considered thrusting him back into the hall, praying that Gibbs wouldn't have got a good look at Tony's face, so he could say he had the wrong room or the wrong person. Hell – the whole wrong parallel universe! But he wasn't fast enough and the silver haired man covered the short distance before Marcus could even utter a word.

Gibbs stood, hands on hips, looking at the prone figure of Detective Anthony DiNozzo. Then, he kicked the desk... with unnecessary force.

DiNozzo jerked awake, flying arms over bobbing head, sending a pile of papers scattering on to the floor.

"'Quake!" he slurred, wide eyes still fogged with sleepiness. "Uh?"

When Tony took notice of the little committee crowding his office, he immediately straightened himself, pulled at his shirt trying to erase the wrinkles that plagued it, and composed an all-business pose, as sincere as his disheveled hair and crooked tie could muster at the moment.

"Gentlemen" Tony said with ease smiling like a Cheshire cat with a whole lot of birds in its stomach.

"Detective DiNozzo, I suppose," Gibbs said with a not so cheerful smile firmly planted on his face. His blue eyes were mere slits, as if he was contemplating an exotic specimen yet to be catalogued.

"In the flesh," Tony said stretching a hand over the desk that went purposely unnoticed. The smile on the younger man's face faltered just a second before making a full force comeback.

They kept staring and smiling at each other for what Marcus considered an eternity and the big man just wanted a crack to hide in, so the blood - that for sure was going to be spilled - wouldn't stain him. But contrary to his survival instincts he stepped forward, assuming the role of mediator between the two wills. _'Here__ goes __the __kamikaze'_ He thought with a smirk.

"Detective Anthony DiNozzo, meet Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, NCIS."

"She was in the navy?" Tony asked in surprise, directing the question toward his friend and all but ignoring Gibbs.

"Hm, well, yeah" Marcus said, a little taken aback by Tony's ability to link the NCIS agent's presence with the last victim that fast. If it wasn't for the paperclip still glued to his cheek, he wouldn't have known the young man had just been rudely awakened. Marcus made a gesture over his face and DiNozzo looked puzzled at his friend before mimicking him.

"The other side" Marcus whispered repeating the gesture.

Tony found the wayward object and stuffed it into a drawer, then composed a big and all too joyful smile and touched his hair as if trying to check that everything was still in place.

Gibbs observed each movement, one corner of his lips twitching imperceptibly, then he took position in front of the desk, forcing Marcus to move aside and almost knocking down a bunch of boxes piled up against the near wall.

"I want all the information you've got over the Geisser case," he said calmly, eyeing the agent from above.

Tony straightened up at the harsh tone, noting how his nerves bristled at the order. He didn't want to start a fight over the case, but he wasn't going to cave in at first sight of trouble either. He put a protective hand over the file, not averting his eyes from the agent's, but Gibbs next words took the wind from his sails.

"_And _I want you to tell me all about those photographs -" a finger stretched past Tony's ear and pointed at the pictures on the wall - "and how they're related to the case."

Tony's eyes followed the finger - not sure he was hearing right - and then his look fell back to the file. Maybe this was the opening he was waiting for. Maybe he could make Agent Gibbs listen to him, but... Would he dare to trust? Did he have any other options left? Just one way to know. He took the folder and handed it over to Gibbs, a stern gesture that didn't match his earlier easy-going attitude. But when Gibbs got a hold of the proffered file, Tony didn't release his end and he even tugged a little.

"I know a place" he said, a soft and gentle smile gracing his lips. "Not too fancy, but with great coffee"

One brow arched, Gibbs directed his look toward the cup he still held in his hand and then locked his eyes on the detective's face, his head slightly tilted to one side as if considering something.

Marcus watched both men as silence filled the overcrowded room and he suddenly felt like an intruder. There were no words pronounced, but he was sure a dialogue was taking place between those eyes and those wills and he wouldn't dare to say a word and break the strange link suddenly forged.

Finally, Gibbs nodded his head and Tony released the file, a low sigh escaping his lips as he did so.

"I'm glad every - Agent Gibbs?" Tony's voice died when he saw the NCIS agent leaving the room without another word. He stood, his eyes wide with surprise, but then he jumped out of his chair, grabbed his coat and notepad and hurried to catch up with the agent.

Marcus poked his head through the door to see the younger man righting Gibbs' course toward the exit.

_'That __went __well,'_ he thought, watching both men disappear.

:

* * *

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Tony was now alone in Gibbs car, in front of the coffee shop he had mentioned before, but he wasn't sure how he had ended up there. He had been talking to Agent Gibbs and suddenly he had spotted Anna in the distance. He had thrust the agent through a door in the exact moment Tony had heard his name being called and the tap-tap of two high heels running towards him. While fumbling with the doorknob, he more than likely had pushed the NCIS agent through a dark hall that lead to a garbage room.

"Shortcut," he had muttered and one silver brow had arched in amusement.

Finally on the outside, Tony had started walking toward his car only to jerk to a halt mid-stride when he saw Agent Gibbs walking off the opposite way. Cursing under his breath at the stubborn NCIS agent, DiNozzo had quickly corrected his course, suddenly aware of the man's intention of taking the lead.

DiNozzo had pointed out the general direction to the coffee-shop and in the exact moment his seat belt had been fastened, Gibbs had jammed his foot on the accelerator causing the car to lurch forward and Tony to swallow whatever he was going to say. The young man's hands clutched the dash board in front of him, praying for the apparently capricious drivers maneuvers to make some kind of sense. They had arrived in record time and Gibbs had exited the car making a bee-line towards the shop and leaving a ghost-faced DiNozzo to deal with the aftermath of his driving style.

He took off his seat-belt with trembling hands, making sure his heart had not decided to jump out of the window in one of those suicidal turns. He stumbled to get out of the car not noticing the cold air as he was so intent on trying to normalize his breathing and not lose the meager contents of his stomach. When he felt able to walk more than two steps without dangerously tilting to one side, he went into the shop only to stop dead on his tracks when he saw Gibbs leaning against the counter, reading what it seemed to be _his_ notebook.

The younger agent's eyes closed to mere slits of anger, and for a moment he saw red. In two long strides he was at Gibbs' side, almost nose to nose with the agent all but ripping the object from his hands.

The ex-marine didn't do a thing, his expression never changing under Tony's very apparent anger. After a long tense minute, the NCIS agent gave a quick jerk of his head and sidestepping DiNozzo, made his way to an empty booth.

Tony hung his head in shame, clinging to the notebook._'What__ was __that? __What __the __hell __was __that?'_he chided himself merciless at his overly emotional reaction. He sighed wearily and rubbed his face. He had been out of his game lately and he knew it. Two hours of sleep definitely had not been sufficient for his exhausted body and deprived brain to keep up tabs with the real world, and to say that the chair and the table used as improvised pillow hadn't done wonders to his already battered body was an understatement. _'Get__ a __hold __DiNozzo, __stop __being __a __whining __girl.'_ He clutched at the notepad in his hands. In there were not only the facts of the last cases, but also his thoughts and sometimes even his feelings, written all over the margins of the lined pages. It was the only way he could make sense of the chaos of his jumbled thoughts – and he wasn't ready to share his demons just yet.

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* * *

:

Gibbs couldn't help but hide a soft smile as the young man reluctantly came to the table and slumped into the chair in front of him. He knew what had caused that furious action, he knew what made DiNozzo steps seem heavier and what pulled down at his shoulders to make him walk with a slouch. That was the fatigue of a man too used to fighting his battles all alone, but Gibbs hadn't decided yet if the young agent deserved anything more than that understanding. He wasn't one to pick up stray dogs just for the fun of it – unless the dog had something in it that was worth fighting for.

Gibbs waited for the two coffees to arrive and took a long sip before pointing to the notebook.

"Talk."

DiNozzo frowned at the terse order, but then shrugged it off, as it seemed to be Gibbs' way of saying things.

"I got a friend in the morgue," Tony began, directing his eyes towards the ceiling for a second. "I like to pay her a visit from time to time. Last time I was there, she was working on an old skull"

"A friend?" Gibbs asked doubtfully.

Tony let a wolfish smile grace his features.

"Ok, her name is Linda, and you should see those legs."

Gibbs nodded and indicated Tony to go on.

"The skull was from a Jane Doe, she was making a reconstruction, you know? With the clay and those weird spots with numbers all over the skull" Tony accompanied his words with his hands, pointing to his chin and cheeks. "Molding the muscles and-"

"I know what you mean," Gibbs said, sipping from his coffee cup.

"Well, my friend had almost finished when I arrived, she was just trying different wigs to go with the face, and when I got a look at it... I couldn't believe it, but I recognized the girl. She was in a poster in the waiting room, had been there since forever!" Tony shouted, reviving the excitement the discovery had triggered in him at the moment. "I'd been looking at that face for months! And she'd been in the morgue all that time."

Eager to continue, he extracted two photos from the notebook and placed them on the table facing Gibbs. The NCIS agent leaned forward, studying both faces. The eyes and the hair were different, but certainly that could be the same girl in both pictures.

"So?" Gibbs finally said, pushing the photos toward the detective and arching one eyebrow not in the least impressed.

"I'm not done yet," Tony said, picking them up and pushing the coffee cup aside to make more room on the table. "There wasn't enough tissue for a DNA test, but I managed to get the medical records of the girl."

"Did you get an order?"

"Well... Not exactly, I took a little detour."

A smirk made a brief appearance on Gibbs' face.

"All legal," Tony rushed to add. "There were some fractures listed in the file, a broken arm being the most relevant, and the girl in the morgue-"

"Lotsa young people have broken an arm now and then" Gibbs said, noticing how the detective hadn't referred to the body as a corpse but a girl.

"I know that, I've broken mine twice," DiNozzo said, not at all deterred by Gibbs' apparent lack of interest, and suddenly unable to contain the energy flooding his body. He smiled and leaned forward, tapping one finger on the table. "But it started to be kind of weird, so many coincidences pointing to the same conclusion, if you get my drift; so I decided to get a hold of the dental record - you don't wanna know how I managed to do that - and _voilà_! No more doubts, it was the same girl! Samantha Waters."

There was a silence while Tony looked eagerly at Gibbs, waiting for some kind of reaction, but the man simply turned the coffee cup in his hand.

"Ok, you got a name for a Jane Doe. Congratulations, want a medal?" The NCIS agent said, but his words lacked the apathy the man was trying to show and DiNozzo let out a little smirk.

"By then I was assigned to cold cases. I looked for the girl's case. It wasn't easy, I must say; since the autopsy placed the death two years after her abduction."

"How long since she was killed until the body was found?"

"Three years, and she spent one more in the morgue after that."

"Six years. She went missing for six years," Gibbs muttered, and Tony eyed him curiously, since the voice of the agent had taken on a weird tone that he couldn't quite pinpoint. Tony waited for Gibbs to add something, but when no more was said, he decided to go on.

"While looking for our girl, I found another case, way too similar to this one. In fact I almost mixed them up 'cause the girl in the photo could have been the big sister of the other one. Here," DiNozzo placed another photo on the table and this time Gibbs picked it up, squinting at the image. "Meet Linda Summerson, age 16 when she was abducted, almost 18 when she died, and was found six months later in a public park."

"COD?"

"Respiratory failure."

Gibbs frowned, not averting his eyes from the picture.

"That's it, nothing else?"

"That was the problem. The girls died because their lungs decided to stop working. They had no defensive wounds and hadn't been forced; they were just too tired to breathe.

"Some kind of narcotic?"

"Nothing that stood out in the tests," DiNozzo said, shaking his head.

"Nothing that could physically link both victims," Gibbs said, watching as a glint appeared in the younger agent eyes. '_There's__ more,'_ he guessed.

"I found two more victims."

"Two more cold cases?" Gibbs asked in surprise.

"One's a cold case, the other one is closed." DiNozzo leaned over his tone low now. "The man accused of the murder has been in prison for a year now."

"But you don't think it's him."

Tony smirked. "Definitely not."

"An innocent man behind bars. Public opinion would have a field day with that."

"Don't forget about the serial killer thing, too" Tony added, a smug look on his face.

"Yeah, I see why your captain's not eager to following that line of investigation. Having IA breathing down your neck is no one's dream." Gibbs said, feeling as if the young man eagerness was getting to him.

"That's an understatement," Tony said, a big grin pulling at the corners of his lips. "Guess that's one of the reasons he hates me so much."

"And what could be the other?" Gibbs asked.

DiNozzo's grin widened as he leaned back in the chair.

"I'm too good at what I do."

Gibbs snorted out his disagreement but directed a lopsided smile toward the agent.

"What makes you think they are all related?"

"All were found in public parks and the COD and pattern are the same. First, he kidnaps them, holds them for almost two years until they die from a drug that weakens their respiratory systems, buries them and move on to the next one."

"It's weird the ages don't match, though."

"Oh, but they _do _match," Tony said raising one finger. "But not like anyone would have expected. See, the girl he kidnaps has the same age as the one he kills. It's like watching a person growing up."

"That's so?"

"Well," Tony said taking some photos from his notebook. "See for yourself."

Gibbs took the first two photos, studying them carefully. The resemblance was noticeable, he couldn't deny that. He placed them on the table and took the last photo. Seemed like Detective DiNozzo had something going on, but that wasn't enough. _Time__ to __pull __the __rug __from __under __his __feet..._

"Do you realize that almost everything you've told me is based on lucky strikes and intuition?" Gibbs said looking over the photo at the detective, a grey eyebrow raised in doubt.

Tony quickly took the photo from Gibbs' hands, slightly taken aback by his words, since they had been the echoes of those uttered by his captain. Ok, so maybe this wasn't the perfect case. There were so many holes in it that he was running the risk of falling down into one of them and never coming up again. He knew that, but he had been working as a one-man operation for months now, trying to keep a good success rate solving cases so the captain wouldn't have an excuse to fire him, and working on the girls' case when he have some free time. He didn't remember the point at which he stopped caring about the day of the week, when he had had his last meal or how long had been since the last time he slept in his own bed. To be wrong was not an option he could risk at the moment, not to mention that each new piece of information pointed in the same direction.

"I'm perfectly aware of that fact," Tony said, a new light shining in his eyes when he looked directly at Gibbs face. "And if you have another explanation I'm eager to hear it. Those girls have waited long enough, I want to know how they died, I want to give them some peace and their parents some closure."

"Even if it doesn't match your theory?"

"My theory doesn't matter anymore; just show me where I'm wrong."

"Your theory doesn't matter," Gibbs muttered, tilting his head slightly. It was clear he didn't believe those words; from what he had seen of the cop sitting across the table, DiNozzo was a stubborn person, but not one that let his feelings rule his actions. Sure, he wanted this case solved and felt a special link with the victims, but his statement had been clear and organized. Oh, well, maybe he was taking the wrong side here, but his gut didn't warn him otherwise. Gibbs let his glance hover over the coffee cup. He was enjoying this ride, something he wouldn't have expected.

"Where were you last night?" Gibbs asked suddenly, and DiNozzo blinked in surprise at the out of the blue question.

"Pardon me?" he asked, not at all knowing Gibbs's game at the moment and feeling uncomfortable about a question he considered personal. "That's none of your business, Agent Gibbs."

"If it's related to the case, yes it is," the NCIS agent said with a little shrug, taking the coffee cup to his lips to conceal a smile of satisfaction.

Tony's jaw tightened and his eyes glittered with irritation.

Gibbs waited a couple of minutes then pulled out some bills from his wallet and placed them on the table before standing up.

"How did you know?" Tony asked without looking up.

"I would have done the same," Gibbs stated simply.

DiNozzo cleared his throat, his back sliding slightly down the chair. He briefly closed his eyes in a gesture of absolute exhaustion.

"I thought..., I don't know, I thought I could recognize him if I saw his eyes. That something inside me would have told me that he was the killer. Crazy, uh?" Tony sat straighter and produced a worn out paper from his inner pocket. "There must be something in his eyes, something cold, dead, and the moment I set eyes on him, I would have known. 'Cause that's what we do, look into others' souls." He unfolded the paper revealing a street map, full of annotations and crosses that covered a part of Baltimore city.

Gibbs sat down and carefully regarded the paper that looked more like a treasure map than anything else. It was full of little marks with different colors and words that must had been written in a rush and were nearly impossible to read.

"These are the places where the bodies were found." DiNozzo pointed out several yellow dots on the map and a big circle in the middle.

"You think he lives there."

DiNozzo nodded.

Gibbs observed that some houses were crossed out in red.

"You've checked them one by one?"

"I made some filters with the computer and ruled out some of them..."

"And then decided to take a little walk down there – maybe the killer decided to pop up and say hi."

DiNozzo shrugged. "Was worth a try." In fact it sounded kind of lame now that he heard it from Gibbs' lips.

Gibbs could only guess how much time the detective had spent on this. There must have been sleepless nights and frustrated hours searching for a ghost. It was good work. He took his eyes from the map to fix them on the younger man, but Tony was looking through the window, lost in thought, contemplating the rain that had started to fall down, little drops colliding with the glass panel. Gibbs breathed deeply and his hand searched under his coat until it came up with a brown envelope that he placed on the table and then pushed toward the other man.

DiNozzo eyed the object curiously, but made no move to pick it up. Instead he looked up again, searching for answers in those blue eyes that kept staring at him.

"Geisser's military record," Gibbs said.

:

TBC

:


	11. Chapter 11

_Thanks for all the reviews and thanks to my beta-reader scousemuz1k for being the awesome person she is_

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**Chapter_10**

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Tony spent the next twenty minutes reading the file, while Gibbs sipped calmly at his coffee and a quiet atmosphere surrounded both men. The NCIS agent felt comfortable enough to let his guard fall a bit and his eyes wandered over the hunched figure sitting in front of him. DiNozzo had his nose almost buried in the papers and seemed to have shut out everything around him. Gibbs already liked the young detective, his passion was contagious and he remembered being like that not so long ago; eager to save the world and make wrongs right. He let a longing smile reach his lips, he missed that.

"I was right," the younger man finally said, emerging from the file and leaning back in the booth, locking his hands behind his head.

"About what, exactly?" Gibbs asked in a low voice, already missing the quietness from before.

"She was the clue. She makes this case different from the others."

"'Ya think?" Gibbs said arching one brow and prompting Tony to continue.

"She was a fighter." Tony put his elbows on the table and tapped one finger on the scattered pages. "Look at all the reprimands and the praises - don't forget those too! She was pigheaded to a fault and I'm going to make a guess here and say that she wasn't a person easy to live with. Imagine keeping her captive, I'm sure she put up one hell of a fight each day she was imprisoned."

"Enough to make her captor want to get rid of her," Gibbs agreed, leaning forward so he was looking directly into Tony's eyes. Twin smiles graced both men's lips.

"Exactly!" Tony cheerfully said. "He found a woman and not a little girl. A marine, nevertheless."

Both men stared at each other, excitement passing from one to the other, until Gibbs' brow suddenly furrowed. His eyes went distant and he pulled at the papers.

"Then... why did he wait almost two years to bury her? Why now and not then?"

"Well..." Tony said staring at the ceiling as if looking there for the answers, "I have a theory about that."

"Uhum," Gibbs murmured, all his attention on the younger man.

Tony bit his lower lip with something akin to nervousness and his look wandered around the small coffee shop.

"Come on, DiNozzo. You don't strike me as the shy type," Gibbs said with a wry smile,and Tony have to laugh at that, 'cause it was true. But he hadn't been so lucky in the trusting department lately and was having doubts about showing all his cards to the man in front of him. The truth was he couldn't let this opportunity be wasted; he needed help and he wasn't going to get it from his boss, nor his police mates. He just wished there were trumpets and bolts of lightning to let you know when you were going to make the right decision, it would be easier.

Tony intertwined his fingers and let his chin rest on them, a soft smile growing.

"Ok, then," he said. "This is what I think happened. Our man, in a fit of fury, kills Theresa and for the first time he really feels responsible. The others? Well, they have gone peacefully - more or less - he has done nothing to them, at least that's what he wants to think, since they succumbed in their sleep. He needs to think. He has crossed the line where he can no longer lie to himself. He's a killer.

"He hides the girl in a freezer, like a doll in its plastic box, a permanent reminder of his actions, and swears this will be the last.

"He keeps his oath for two years, battling his own instincts until something happens, something that makes him leave the fight and succumb to the darkness again. Another girl; and this one is perfect, as if heavens had put her in his path for a reason, but he has doubts. He goes to see his ice princess, and she is so cold, so lifeless, with no resemblance to the other girl. How could have he been so blind? This girl - the one he killed, - had been a mistake. He just got confused at some point, but now he's sure that he's got the right girl and like any other human being, he tried to hide his errors and make a clean start. He buries the frozen girl, but he's a little bit anxious, he's in a little bit of a hurry and doesn't take all the precautions he should, leaving part of the bag for other eyes to see. That's what I think happened."

There was a long silence where Tony waited and Gibbs looked at him, not a single twitch on his face to give away what he was thinking. How Tony hated not being able to read the man; that he could conceal his thoughts so well that even a seasoned policeman like him was having a difficult time knowing what to say to push it further. So for once Tony kept silent and waited.

"Nice story," Gibbs finally said, but his face remained unreadable.

"Perfect for a screenplay, I know," Tony chided, unsure of the tone he should choose to go on.

"So, you think he's kidnapped another one," the fed stated, and Tony nodded, not daring to say a thing – as if one simple word could break Gibbs train of thoughts and wreck the faith he had put in the man in a heartbeat.

"That's a big accusation, and all I've heard that could sustain it, are just your instincts and some kind of timeline you've created."

And with that Tony knew it was all lost. He reached for his notes and silently started to collect the photos, maps and papers that littered the table. Gibbs didn't believe him, so what? He didn't need the NCIS agent. He had been alone for a long time now and knew how to deal with this just fine, thank you. No one was going to stop him for doing his job and saving that girl. He raised his head, proudly, wanting to say something that mirrored his thoughts, only to find Gibbs smiling at him. That was too much for Tony to stand and if Gibbs hadn't said something in that exact moment, Tony would have jumped across the table and punched the smile off the older man's face.

"I've worked with less."

:

* * *

:

The trip back to the precinct was made with a chattering DiNozzo and a sulking Gibbs. The younger man kept throwing out movie references, trashing all the compartments in the car and not caring if Gibbs paid any attention to him, until his phone started ringing insistently.

Tony looked at the caller ID and ignored it. The second time it began to ring, he put it on vibrate and the third time he just silenced the phone.

"My fans," he said with a big grin that didn't reach his eyes. After that the silence filled the car and Gibbs thanked whoever was calling the younger agent, even if he didn't like the distant look that had settled into his green eyes.

Tony was starting to get worried about Anna's persistence, and he wondered if he had a stalker on his hands... As if it wasn't bad enough that she was the Chief's niece! He knew his phone was still ringing in his pocket, even if he couldn't hear it, and that was beginning to wear on his nerves. He needed to do something, but for the life of him, he didn't know what. Everything in this city was conspiring against him to make him go crazy. He thought about leaving, about starting a new life in a new town where he wouldn't repeat the same mistakes. For starters he would choose a sunny town where this icy weather was something just mentioned on other people's forecasts, and he would be pickier about his dates.

A loud noise made by the closing of Gibbs' door startled Tony out of his reverie. They were back at the precinct and Gibbs was making already his way toward the glass doors. Tony hurried out of the car and ran to catch up with the NCIS agent feeling slightly like a dog running behind his master. He was going to mention something about it when an uni* came barreling up to him. He recognized the man as one of Marcus' protégées.

"Detective DiNozzo!" the young man said, grabbing Tony by his arm and panting heavily. "Your office, they're taking it apart!"

"What?" Tony asked incredulously. "What do you mean?"

The agent pulled at the detective to prompt him to follow and Gibbs silently walked behind.

Tony all but ran to his office, coming to a halt when he almost collided with one of the men who were pulling box after box out of the little room.

"HEY!" he shouted, glaring at them. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Chief's orders," one said, not even looking at DiNozzo.

"Dammit," he swore, making his way into the room. One person was standing in the middle of all the chaos, taking note of the few boxes that where still on the floor waiting to be lifted.

"Dunlap," Tony said, seeing his ex-partner.

The man, quite a bit older than Tony, looked at him through his glasses and stopped writing.

"DiNozzo," he said by way of greeting. He was tall and lean, prematurely grey hair covering his head.

"So it's you," Tony said in a low voice. "I should have known."

"It wasn't my idea," Dunlap said raising both hands in a placating gestured.

"Bullshit!" Tony said, a pointing finger jabbing at the other man's chest

"Hold on a moment!" Dunlap pushed the finger out of his way and stepped forward, but DiNozzo didn't back off and they ended up almost nose to nose. "Don't be so cocky, DiNozzo! You've brought this upon yourself!

"How so?"

"See! That, right there. That attitude!" Dunlap said throwing his arms up in the air in exasperation. "You've never known how to keep your place!"

"Yeah, well, 'cause being an ass-licker is way better."

"Don't you dare, DiNozzo. This has nothing to do with that."

"Don't fool yourself, Mister Righteous," Tony said between gritted teeth. "You handed me to the captain and this is his price for the good little detective you claim to be. He asked for a fall guy and you wasted no time in giving my name."

"I couldn't let you get away with that."

"I didn't do anything!" Tony cried almost pleadingly. "How many times I must repeat myself! You passed judgment and sentence and didn't bother to ask for my version. I was your partner, for God's sake!"

"She said you did it." Dunlap stated, but he seemed to be losing his grip on the discussion and he backed away a little.

"And you choose to believe a killer and a thief rather than your own partner. How does that make sense?"

Dunlap shrugged one shoulder and scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck in an unconscious gesture Tony had seen him do when he was nervous.

"I was your friend," Tony continued, but his words weren't angry any more, just sad. "You should have known I would never do that."

"That's the thing, Tony," Dunlap said, letting his eyes rest on the slumped form of his ex-partner who was looking at the photos still attached to the wall. "I _don't_ know you. No one does. For all we know you just appeared here one day bragging about how things were done in Philly."

Tony's face scrunched up at hearing that.

"I was your partner, the one who had your back. That should have been enough."

There was a silence as the last box was lifted from the floor and carried through the door. Tony tracked its movements with his eyes, until someone closed the door blocking the sight. He felt like something had been ripped from his very soul. He turned around to face Dunlap again.

"So now, what?" Tony asked.

"The Chief has given us the lead; it's not a cold case anymore."

"Us?" Tony asked, but he already knew the answer.

"My new partner and me."

"And how long have you been crying to the captain to get your hands on it?"

"Don't be a whining kid, DiNozzo. I didn't ask for this. I've never wanted to step on your case."

"Well, you're doing a hell of a job, then."

Dunlap snorted, but there was no fury so far. Silence filled the hole between them, and both men stared at each other waiting to see who would be the one to start the next confrontation. Dunlap let his gaze fall to the floor while a hand reached for the back of his neck again and Tony knew there was something more to be addressed.

"We'll need your notes and everything you've gathered up to now. It would be useful if you make a little resume of the whole thing."

"Sure, do you want tea and cookies too? Maybe some cake?" Tony said, a little smile playing on his lips, but his eyes were stone hard and even Dunlap noticed that he was tiptoeing over a line not worth crossing. "You'll have to do your own work, Dunlap," he continued, the smile dropping from his face. His words were a whisper, with a mocking tone caressing them.

Suddenly Dunlap straightened himself, no traces of the previous nervousness on his chiseled face anymore. There was a hard glint in his eyes and, if it weren't for Tony's stubbornness, he would have taken a step away from the man.

"Maybe I don't know you as I should," Dunlap said, his head tilting to one side as if in consideration of something. "But I know one thing. You want this man behind bars and right now I'm the only one who can give you that. Whine all you want, DiNozzo, get drunk or chase some skirts. I don't care what you need to cope with this situation, but I want those notes and that resume. I'm your only option here."

Tony learned one thing at that moment. Maybe Dunlap didn't know him, but it was crystal clear he didn't know his ex-partner either. He had never heard the older cop talk like that. There he stood, his ex-partner, strong and confident, while Tony retreated in his mind, knowing that he had lost this battle and probably the war. Dunlap felt it too, he grabbed a post-it from his notebook and handed it over to DiNozzo before making his way to the door.

"There's always an option."

Dunlap stopped at Tony's whispered words but he didn't turn around to address him.

"Do you really want to try and solve this with no back-up? You think you could?" He said, a hand already on the knob. "I'm no fool, DiNozzo. Don't treat me like one."

And with that he was gone. Tony wanted to crumple on the floor and have a tantrum, kicking and crying like a little child, but instead he kept staring at the yellow piece of paper Dunlap had given him.

_'Agent in charge:_

_Awesome Detective A. DiNozzo_

_Knock before entering'_

He didn't feel so awesome anymore.

"Was he talking about a case?"

Tony spun around. He had forgotten about the NCIS agent. The man was leaning against a wall and the light barely touched him as if he was part of the shadows in the room. Tony swore under his breath; the man was like a fucking ghost when he wanted to be. For a moment, he was ready to lash out at Gibbs, just for being there, and especially for having witnessed Tony's losses. But the younger man had had enough fights already and didn't feel like he had the energy right now.

"The last case we worked together," he said, placing the post-it down on the table and leaning against it. "A robbery with homicide. It was an inside job, but the family had so many people working for them that it was almost impossible to know who the killer was. Carla Robinson was the daughter of one of the cooks. Mister Carson - the owner of the house - was having an affair with her and she thought that she deserved some of his fortune for entertaining the old man. We arrested her and she thought she could bribe the leading detective with sex. That was me."

"Did you do it?" Gibbs asked, pushing himself from the wall to stand mere feet from DiNozzo.

The younger man lifted his eyes to stare directly at those piercing blue ones.

"No," he said solemnly and to his surprise Gibbs nodded, not doubting his word for a moment.

"If Dunlap told the captain that you had slept with her, why didn't he fire you?"

"There was no proof, and she changed her story, but nevertheless, from that point on, I was the black sheep of the family. The Chief didn't want to take a chance on an investigation from the rat squad** so the whole situation was swept under the rug. I was transferred to Cold Cases and my friend Dunlap got an office near the Chief's."

"Who knows?" Gibbs asked.

"McPherson, Dunlap, me and, well... you," Tony said with a shrug.

"Marcus?"

Tony shook his head, but let a little amused smile to grace his lips.

"You don't want to know what he thinks I'm being punished for."

Gibbs sighed, rolling his eyes at DiNozzo's flippant attitude.

"You have too many secrets."

The younger man lifted his head and his glance roamed the now empty room.

"There's no such thing as too many secrets."

::

_TBC_

::

* * *

_*Unis: police slang for uniformed police officers_

_**Rat squad: police slang for officers and detectives assigned to the Internal Affairs Bureau_


End file.
